


warm glow with a golden shine

by bigchickcannibalistic



Series: there's a heartbeat under my skin [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Original setting, again names of places and some things are made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigchickcannibalistic/pseuds/bigchickcannibalistic
Summary: “I’m not that bad.”Betty raises her eyebrows, incredulous. “Ronnie, I work with you. Have you noticed how your desk’s pointy-object-free?” It is? “You’re that bad.”“When I’m stressed. And there will be no stress during this trip!” Veronica smiles, pleased and jubilant.---“Fucking hell, Reginald, what did you do?!”“Just drive!”Or vacation escapades of one Veronica Lodge and one Betty Cooper





	warm glow with a golden shine

**Author's Note:**

> Me @ the start: this is gonna be an 8k fic for sure  
> Me @ 12k: fuck  
> Me @ 20k: fuCK
> 
> So um, enjoy?
> 
> Title from "The Path" by Miracle of Sound

_“Hey, Ronnie,”_ Kevin chimes on the other end of the video call. He sounds thoughtful, which takes effort at four in the morning – though isn’t it like…. midnight where he is? Or was that last week? Fuck if she knows anymore.

_Focus Veronica._

Veronica hums but otherwise keeps sorting through her documents, hands restless, fingers twitchy. Shouldn’t have had that third coffee. Should’ve taken any other drink except coffee, really. Hell she should’ve just snatched a sip or two of Betty’s tea, when she wasn’t looking, to settle her craving. _As if she wouldn’t notice. But she would let you._

_She’d let you do a lot._

She shudders, wiling the thought away. The last thing she needs while working out her caffeine is to imagine what Betty would let her do in a less professional setting – in a more bedroom oriented setting. Nope, nope, nope, bad Veronica, focus – _focus_ or you’ll never get to sleep and then you’ll look tired and Betty’ll give you worried glances with those beautiful blue eyes and – _there you go again, fuck._

Veronica groans into her hands. Think of literally anything else. Anything.

Betty ( _Good job Veronica_ ) has been zoning out recently, small episodes that are blink-and-miss, nothing like that one week where Veronica thought Betty would just drop onto the sofa and not get up for several hours. She thought Betty’d drop _anywhere_ ; it’s partially why she’s made sure to stay as much as possible in the apartments that week. She can say something now, unlike then, and it wouldn’t be awkward but then it’s _Betty_ and Betty’s a stickler for doing her job.

_Takes one to know one, eh?_

_“I think you need a vacation.”_ Kevin’s voice breaks her hectic thoughts. Veronica almost forgot they were on call.

“I’m sure we can get you some Vacaliton.”

_“That’s not what I said and you know it, Lodge.”_ Veronica rolls her eyes, can just about imagine his exasperated eyebrow raise. She doesn’t even have to look at the screen really.

“I know many things, it’s true.” Veronica’s purposefully being obtuse. She can’t very well tell him he’s right immediately. He has to work for it. “But I have never heard of this ‘vacation’ you speak of.”

_“Vacation. Noun –”_

“Hush, Bianca.” Veronica looks pointedly at the AI’s interface, taking up the left portion of her laptop screen. There’s an amused Kevin Keller taking up the right.

_“When is the last time you even went on vacation?”_

“You know I can’t seem to remember.” Veronica gives him a shrug.

_“Approximately four years ago, 34 days, 22 hours –”_

“Thank _you_ , Bianca,” Veronica grumbles. She drops her head in her hands, blows out a long breath into them and just. Doesn’t think. For two minutes. She can do that right? Just empty her head of clients and obligations and plans and documents for two whole minutes.

She could, say instead, think of blonde hair, blue eyes dancing with joy and lips pulled up into a small, private smile. She could imagine hands massaging her shoulders after a very arduous call with a contact, fingers pressing just so into her neck and really she could melt in those fingers, those hands, into Betty.

Veronica looks over at her phone, peeking between her discarded pillows.

That sounds really tempting right now.

But waking Betty up at four in the morning when she’s obviously not sleeping right just so they could cuddle sounds (pretty good) highly inconsiderate. Like trash tier inconsiderate.

_“Ronnie?”_

“Yeah?”

_“Stop thinking about your girlfriend for a moment would you?”_ Veronica glares at Kevin’s smug little smile. _“And – no wait actually do think about your girlfriend!”_

“Okay? Great, thanks for giving me your permission??? Which I didn’t need???” Veronica raises her hands, giving Kevin her best ‘wtf is wrong with you’ face.

_“I wasn’t done.”_ Her raises a hand placating. But he’s still smiling, the smug little shit. _“Think about her and… plan your first vacation together.”_

That – okay when he puts it like that how can Veronica refuse the image of her and Betty lounging on the beach? Lounging and not a care in the world and just allowed to simply relax. (Not that Betty’d relax but shhhh, Veronica can deal with that.) And then there’s Betty in a swimsuit and _holy shit_.

Veronica can feel herself burning.

And Kevin? He knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

“I’ll think about it,” Veronica says and ends the call before Kevin can gloat more than he already has.

Then her phone pings with a text reading _you’re welcome._

(She does send him a _say happy birthday to Joaquin for me; buy him that shirt_ text because that was what they were talking about before Kevin derailed it with vacation talk.)

\-----

Veronica was going to discuss this with Betty, y’know like how adults do in relationships. Sit down, maybe drink something other than coffee, and talk about a possible trip, destinations, travel expenses, hotels and the like.

But nooooo – no we can’t have that, now can we?

No, so how about instead of that peaceful setting, Veronica gets woken up by a stream of texts from Cheryl, practically panicking because Melody’s target – the one Polly’s helping coordinate – just fucking died from a fucking cinnamon allergy and now everything about that mission is up in the air. And how about we have Veronica go through four different scenarios but when she calls her client, the woman simply says that they should _persuade_ the target’s daughter – who’s inheriting everything – to agree to a partnership.

And you wanna know a kicker?

The target’s daughter hired Veronica to spy on this client’s fiancée’s travel company.

Veronica seriously needs a drink.

_Not coffee though._

“Ronnie, you’re not getting a drink without eating something first,” Betty says from somewhere above her. Veronica can’t tell, she’s too busy hiding her face in her hands so she wouldn’t bang her head against the table. You wanted a spy network? Well eat it, Lodge.

“Cooper’s got a point,” Cheryl adds from somewhere, sounds far enough to be near Veronica’s nook. “The last thing any of us need is a drunk you hurtling things at people.”

“I wouldn’t hurtle things.” Veronica grumbles. And it’s not like she’d get drunk from one drink on an empty stomach. She needs a good four or five. She’s tested that out in college.

“Come again?” Betty asks, softly. One of her hands is trailing along Veronica’s arm and it’s both very distracting and very soothing. Like if she wasn’t in a horrible position for her back, Veronica could very well fall asleep there with Betty scratching her arm.

She could very well fall asleep in those arms any day.

_Like say on a beach?_

Veronica slams her hands against the table, jerking up so suddenly she nearly gets whacked in the face by Betty’s hand. “We’re going on a vacation,” she declares loudly.

“Okay.” Betty’s looking a bit surprised, unsure where all of this came from.

“As much fun as that would be, I’ll pass. You two are too sickeningly sweet for my luxurious tastes,” Cheryl adds and, no she’s not in Veronica’s nook surprisingly. She’s enjoying her coffee on the sofa, just outside Veronica’s office, looking like she owns the place. In true Cheryl fashion.

“Good because you weren’t invited,” Veronica adds, smiling when Cheryl sends her a withering look, like how dare she, right? “Someone needs to stay here and coordinate these people.”

Veronica does wince at the sight of Cheryl nearly choking herself as she tries not to spit out her coffee. “If you die, I’m having Betty hex your ghost to haunt these halls.”

“I can’t actually do that.”

Veronica gives her a disappointed look, jutting her lower lip out for good measure. She’s fishing for that small little smile Betty makes whenever Veronica does that. (She thinks she’s so clever, but Veronica saw them from the get go.)

She’s rewarded with that same smile, and a mild shake of the head.

“Okay I’ll find _someone_ to hex your ghost to haunt these halls,” Veronica amends.

“I am so touched that you couldn’t live without me.” Cheryl smiles wickedly, flipping her hair proudly. She gestures to Betty and then to Veronica. “But if you come near my soul I’ll revive myself just so I can strangle you myself.”

“Awww, it’s nice that you’d care enough to put so much effort into it, Cheryl,” Veronica coos, clapping her hands together beneath her chin to top off the sickeningly sweet expression. It’s been a routine of theirs: Cheryl acts all sardonic and Veronica counters it with sickening sweetness.

“I’m going before your sweetness makes me hurl my coffee.”

Veronica deliberately tracks her as she leaves, maintaining her expression as long as possible. When the last wisp of red hair disappears beyond her door, Veronica sighs, flopping back into her chair.

“So, a vacation?” Betty asks, leaning on her table so her back’s to the office door, eyes peering at Veronica curiously and warm. Veronica never gets tired of how warm Betty’s eyes are, ever since the kiss – hell, ever since the club. It’s such a vivid contrast to how cool they were when they first met, even in the bright red and green lighting of the restaurant. And the thought that they’re warm for _her_ – well, it makes her heart jump every time.

“Yeah.” Veronica shrugs, in a helpless fashion. “Since this whole network started we haven’t really taken a break, have we? So I thought, why not when there’s a lull.”

“This isn’t a lull, Ronnie.”

“This morning may have pissed me off enough to move things forward.” Veronica offers a guilty smile. Betty doesn’t look reassured so Veronica scoots forward to pry one of her hands off her table – which Betty anticipates because her fingers practically fly off the wood and latch onto Veronica’s.

Still Betty’s eyes bore into Veronica’s, searching. “How much have you got this planned out?”

Oh, right, that. “A grand total of nothing.”

It earns her a snort, with Betty covering her eyes with her free hand. But she’s still smiling so it can’t be all that bad. After all Veronica’s managed to make a pretty stable spy network with just barely 30% planned out. How bad can one vacation be to plan?

“Okay.” Betty nods, her thumb tracing Veronica’s knuckles. It’s soothing for both of them. “First we need a location. And actually have that location by the time we leave.”

“You’re still sour over that little thing?” Veronica scoffs, standing quickly. She all but drags Betty out of her office with the blonde muttering _“Little thing, she says”_ , planning to have a meet-up with her mom to discuss possible destinations. (Since her mom’s travelled the most out of the two Lodges, she’s the best thing they have to a consultant.)

(Polly, the next logical choice, is currently swarmed with this hiccup in the mission, and Cheryl didn’t look in the mood to talk when they passed her. Veronica’s definitely not asking Mantle for help. She’s heard how he brags about his travels – most end up in explosions. )

\-----

Veronica’s looking through her phone – Kevin liveblogging his preparations for the party for Joaquin to be precise – when the thought hits her.

“Oh shit.” Veronica snaps her fingers, conscious enough not to shout since they’re in a busy restaurant and she remembers the tales of waiters dropping dishes because someone screamed like they’re being chased by a murderer. She has a flare for the dramatic, not excessively dramatic, thank you.

“What?” Betty’s still eyeing the menu, brows furrowed in concentration. Sometimes she makes the cutest faces when she’s concentrating and they’re _too distracting_. (Veronica’s lost count on the number of glances she throws when Betty plays chess in her office.) “Don’t tell me you forgot something in your office?”

“No. Wait, maybe.” She thinks back for a second, pressing a finger to her lips. There are a few documents she’s supposed to review and her phone’s here so… did she really forget something of value?

_Your sunglasses._

“Nope. Nothing to cry over anyway. Not what I meant though. I forgot to ask you if you actually want to go on a vacation.” Betty looks up, confused. Veronica looks down to where her hands are playing with a napkin, growing nervous now that she actually stopped and thought about it. “I dunno maybe you want to stay here and spend time with Polly – since I’ve been keeping both of you busy. Or sleep the whole week away. Or something.”

“Oh,” Betty breathes. She’s silent for a while, long enough to have Veronica look up impatiently. Which probably is Betty’s plan because the blonde’s lips are quirked up lightly. The simple quirk turns into a grin, so indulgent Veronica has to stop and _breathe_.

“Nah, I’m good,” Betty finally says, eyes back on the menu, ponytail swinging with the motion.

_Not just good –_ wait what?

“You’re good?” _Focus Veronica, geez._ You were doing so well a minute there.

“Yes. I’ll go on a vacation with you.” Betty nods at the menu. She drops it on the table without much fuss. Despite trying very hard to subdue her excitement over having possibly a whole _week_ with Betty without any work, some of it slips out because Betty’s giving her that look – the look that says _you’re adorable_ and _I adore you_ and how has Veronica not seen them before the river incident? Before she nearly lost Betty? Like how tired was she to miss such clear signs????

“Besides,” Betty continues self-consciously after a brief pause. “I think Polly will kick me out of our flat if she heard I passed up on the chance to go on a real vacation.”

“Oh, good. Okay, then that’s settled.” Veronica nods, wrapping her hands around her elbows so she wouldn’t tear those napkins because they are pretty cute. Which also gives her time to process exactly what Betty said and _hello_ – “Wait, ‘real vacation’?”

“I had missions then I had jobs then I met you.” Betty looks down at her folded hands and, yep she’s blushing. Veronica has to bite her lip not to react because Betty’s clearly not done and she’s clearly self-conscious about this and Veronica will not ruin this moment. “Didn’t really have a vacation in between.”

Okay. Okay, her hearts hurting from how faint Betty’s voice is, like she’s admitting something she shouldn’t, like it’s shameful for her not to have been on an actual vacation. Well you know what? It isn’t. Not if Veronica Lodge has any fucking say in it.

And she fucking does.

“Then it’s my obligation as your girlfriend to give you the best vacation you could ask for.” Veronica extends her hands, digging her fingers in until Betty unclasps hers. Veronica gives them a slight squeeze, keeping her eyes on Betty so she’ll know it’s all right, that Veronica won’t judge, no matter what.

Betty quirks her lips. “Spending time with you without worrying you’re going to hurtle something at someone is more than enough.”

_Goddammit Betty you can’t just say things like that and expect a girl not to kiss you right on the spot oh my God –_

Owner of a spy network ladies and gentlemen – undone and brought to a blubbering mess by her (gorgeous, adorable, heavenly) girlfriend. You know she’s got it bad when she doesn’t even try to hide the blush that’s spreading over her face and neck. For this girl she’ll wear that high and proud.

But seriously if there wasn’t a table separating them, Betty would get smooched so hard. Veronica settles for planting a kiss on one of Betty’s hands, and enjoys how Betty’s eyes follow the movement carefully, like she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“I’m not that bad,” Veronica manages, still trying to get her thoughts in order. She should at least attempt at coherent speech when her mother gets here. Not that she hasn’t seen Veronica blubbering or gushing about _Betty_ but she’s not in the mood for her mother teasing her about that in front of Betty.

Betty raises her eyebrows, incredulous. “Ronnie, I work with you. Have you noticed how your desk’s pointy-object-free?” _It is?_ “You’re that bad.”

“When I’m stressed. And there will be no stress during this trip!” Veronica smiles, pleased and jubilant.

\-------

“Fucking hell, Reginald, what did you do?!” Veronica shouts from the passenger seat, eyeing the group of angry looking people in suits running at them fast.

“Just drive!” Mantle shouts from where he’s sprawled across the back seats, looking worse for wear.

Betty grunts but starts up the car.

“Hold onto something, Ronnie,” she warns as she’s about to drive out of the hotel parking space. Instinctively Veronica grabs her hand where it’s holding the gear shift. Which, okay isn’t the smartest idea in this particular situation. Betty looks down at their hands, then up at Veronica. “Something other than my hand right now, please.”

“I panicked,” Veronica admits. She has just enough time to grab the overhead grips before Betty’s flooring it out of the parking lot, and somehow avoids colliding with an oncoming car.

This is what she knows:

Arriving in Balvience – a coastal city, split up by a curvy river, and with an incline but most importantly _peaceful_ – with the noon sunlight shining down like a sign from the heavens that maybe this will be a blissfully peaceful trip. And totally ignoring how Betty’s hair, finally down from her ponytail, _shines_ in the sunlight, how immediately the warmer climate seems to ease her (or that could be the four hours of uninterrupted sleep she got on the flight. Veronica’s amazed how quickly Betty fell asleep; and worried about how it speaks of how little she’s gotten the week prior.)

(And she totally didn’t sneak pictures of Betty with her face buried in Veronica’s shoulder. Nope, not one Veronica Lodge. Slander.)

Arriving and immediately going through the Shopping Quarter of the city to buy whatever Betty’s missing – because the woman with her minimalistic upbringing has only brought one bag of essentials and that simply won’t do at all. If this is to be the best vacation of Betty’s life, she is gonna get pampered like she deserves. No ifs, buts, howevers, maybes and unfortunatlies about it.

(And that whenever Betty, arms crossed, starts to tap her elbows, it’s time to leave the store. It’s not that she’d _do_ anything, but y’know better safe than sorry. Even a slightly tired Betty can be rash.)

Spending a total of 10 minutes in their hotel room because _“no, no, no, we are going out and seeing what the city has to offer.”_ And Betty, with a look that’s so unfazed Veronica thinks Cheryl might have competition, snatches an extra pair of sunglasses and follows after her.

All of that is what she knows.

This is what she didn’t know:

When you get a text with the name _Forsythe_ and that reads _Incoming_ , you really should just leave wherever you are. Immediately. Because if you don’t, a beaten up Reginald Mantle will jump into the back seat of your car, clearly being chased.

And here they are, having a fucking car chase in Balvience. On the first day of their vacation. Scratch that – not even 12 hours into their vacation. Fucking. Great.

“This is just like Phael Jabbis, eh Cooper?” There are two black cars still following them. Betty’s lost one in the run around Balvience’s centre, but these two are persistent.

“This will be _nothing_ like that.” Veronica raises her brows at the venom in Betty’s voice. Her knuckles are white where she’s clutching the steering wheel, eyes glaring beneath her sunglasses. Jaw set tight, but her nose’s twitching like she’s trying to control herself, hold herself back.

“Why? What happened in Phael Jabbis?” Betty takes a hard right, cutting through an extremely narrow street that Veronica’s pretty sure shouldn’t be open to motor vehicles.

“Oh man, you should’ve seen it, Miss L –”

“Nearly dumped the car in a river,” Betty cuts in, non-too-pleased. “Had to go through a market street. Then I drove blind because a tapestry got stuck on the windshield. Barely avoided the river.”

“Because I managed to get it off.”

“Oh, many thanks, Mantle.” Betty chuckles sarcastic and okay, Veronica can see Betty’s not as calm as she wants to be. Her act slipping isn’t a good sign either. “It’s not like you were the reason for the car chase in _the_ _first place._ ”

“Okay, yeah, fair.” Mantle leans forward, squinting at something in the distance. He points to a bell tower of a church, obscured by several colourful buildings. “Go to Rublian’s. There’s enough traffic there to lose ‘em.”

“That’s what you said the last two turns,” Veronica points out. “I’m doubtful of your future as a GPS interface, Reginald.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Miss L. I just sent my application.”

Veronica snorts, imagining Mantle’s voice telling her in a booming, overconfident tone _“you’ve reached your destination. Good job, pal.”_ She’ll have to destroy that if he’s even remotely serious.

“Goddammit.” Another sharp right, followed by an unstable left that sends Mantle sliding into the back seat with a grunt. Which is good because Veronica was starting to get sick from the pungent mix that is his cologne. “These guys are persistent like sluvibi eagles. What did you _do_ , Mantle?”

“Okay,” he wheezes out. Veronica sends him a quick glance, just to make sure he’s not particularly hurt. He’s not, just apparently landed on a bruise if the way he’s holding his side is any indicator. “Okay, let me preface that this isn’t completely my fault, all right?”

“Comforting,” Veronica quips, pressing a hand to her temple. Just one week. Was that too much to ask? One week without all of this. Why? Why? Why? _Why_?

“It’s not like I wanted my contact to go Balvience at the same time you two go on vacation.” Mantle’s scooted forward again, but he’s leaning closer to Veronica’s seat. Probably because Betty’s ready to throttle him. Veronica would try to placate her, but any contact with Betty when she’s this concentrated is going to startle her.

“And it’s not like I thought he would be monitored by another group of horseshit assholes when I go get the thing. I ran interference, okay? They shouldn’t have been there.”

The thing? What thing was he supposed to collect? She sent him like what – two weeks ago? Who was particularly interesting at that time? Sresaroks Inc., Alimmie & Onkosy, Mandreis – Oh no. Oh no, no.

“You mean the Mandreis transport manifestos?”

“Yeah, those.” _This is why we can’t have nice things. Like this, these circumstances right here._ The Mandreis’ contact was going to give them juicy information for retrieving those manifestos. “But at least I got them.” _Oh thank God._ “And hey you two were here so –”

Betty gives Veronica a short, but pointed glance, eyes betraying just how done she is with this whole thing. Then she looks at the rear-view mirror. “Mantle.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop. Talking,” Betty bites out as she cuts through the traffic surrounding Rublian’s Church – which is looking better than the last time she was here. Must’ve done some renovations.

_Or maybe you’re not drunk this time._

\-----

They lose the second car near Rublian’s. The third gets stuck behind a train ramp, with Betty flooring it to barely slip pass it when it started to lower. Veronica had never been more ready to scream bloody murder. She’s still got a deathly grip on the overhead grip, still trying to keep her heart in her chest because oh boy for a minute she thought it jumped out the window.

“That was the. Best,” Mantle says once Betty’s parked the car in a crowded parking lot along an old-style building. Both Betty and Veronica visibly sag in relief once the car stops moving. Two hours or so lost on a car chase.

“I missed working extraction with you, Cooper,” Mantle continues, sliding forward to pat Betty on the shoulder. Betty just scoffs at him, whole body shaking with the movement.

“Fuck off, Reggie.” There’s hardly any bite in Betty’s voice. Veronica finds herself breathing a bit easier.

“Next time call a fucking taxi.”

Veronica looks over, the tension suddenly back at how much force Betty put into her words – like a threat, underlining but still easy to read. If Veronica can pick up on it – especially with the glare Betty’s sending Mantle over her sunglasses – then so can he.

And Mantle does look sheepish – as much as he can with a bruised face – and slowly shifting closer to Veronica. “I am sorry for dropping in on your vacation. Really, really sorry.”

He looks over to Veronica, eyes sad, and all of the previous amusement and bravado gone. Veronica sighs, hitting her head against her seat. “Thanks. Now make yourself scarce. I don’t think this one can take another round.”

“Aye, aye, Miss L.” And with that he’s gone as abruptly as he arrived.

The silence that settles between them is so stark compared to the chaos they’ve experienced. Deafening, even. Betty’s tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, mimicking some rhythm but it’s unfamiliar.

The tension in Betty’s jaw is familiar though. So familiar.

So Veronica starts with her shoulder, gently pressing her fingers in, mindful of Betty’s initial flinch. Slowly her fingers glide down her arm, eyes still on Betty’s jaw, on her face, watching for any sign of discomfort. She sees the moment Betty lets herself relax. She looks over just as Veronica’s fingers reach her knuckles, just as they worm between Betty’s and the steering wheel.

Her eyes are flickering behind her sunglasses, going all over Veronica’s face. “You okay?” She breathes out finally.

“Fine.” Veronica sends her a grin, squeezing her hand. Betty squeezes back so quickly Veronica wonders, not for the first time, whether that’s become a reflex. “Miffed that it’s already sundown and we’re way up on the Hill, but fine. We’re fine.”

“I’m sure there’s something the Hill has to offer.” Betty takes off her sunglasses – which isn’t such a bad idea since the sun’s almost fully set. If she took off her sunglasses, Veronica could see specks of stars already emerging in the dimming sky. She’s marvelled, when she was younger and from her hotel terrace, how this side of Balvience is so dark compared to the centre and docks. Possibly because it’s mostly residential. She can’t recall, but she does recall someone trying to woo her by taking her to see the stars.

Wait.

_Veronica you are a genius._

Veronica’s fishing for her phone. “There’s a hilltop around here that perfect for stargazing. Just gimme a sec to find my – where is the little shit?” Okay she definitely dropped her phone in her bag. She had enough time in the chase to do that right? She didn’t drop it on the street, did she? She swears, if Mantle –

“Uh, Ronnie.” Veronica looks up to see Betty holding out her phone. “You threw it on the dash board when I took a left.”

“Better there than at Reginald.” She opens her GPS app, typing in the hilltop – or as close as she remembers the name. “Up for a bit of stargazing?”

“How romantic.”

“Never say I didn’t do anything romantic for you.”

“Oh believe me I’d never.” The grin on Betty’s face – it’s a sweet combination of, well, sweet and something wicked, something Veronica wouldn’t mind exploring further. But it mellows before Veronica can. “Are you up for a walk to this romantic getaway? Those guys are still probably looking for this car.”

“Smart. See, I knew I kept you around for a reason, Betty.” Veronica grins, wiggling her brows. Betty just shakes her head in exasperation, but does give her a kiss on the temple – quick and light.

 

Up on the hilltop, after getting mildly lost because her GPS isn’t precise (Veronica blames Bianca’s latest attempt to hack and optimize. She swears that AI has inherited the worst case of curiosity and persistence from her), Veronica learns a new thing about Betty: she knows constellations.

Not all of them but she traces more than what Veronica remembers learning. Each one she points out, she tells what stories she recalls of them – mostly anyway. Veronica happily fills in the blanks, adding her own flavour to the stories until they’re both laughing.

And then they’re not laughing, too wrapped up in each other and kisses they share. Veronica doesn’t mind at all, not with the way Betty tangles a hand in her hair and pulls her closer, not with the way she shivers when Veronica traces her jaw, not with the way Betty breathes out her name like a prayer.

_Fucking. Genius, Lodge._

\-----

One thing Veronica may have forgotten about:

They have one bed.

Which y’know wouldn’t be a problem if: a) she doesn’t hog the blankets every damn time; b) when she’s not hogging the blankets (hell sometimes even when she is) she’s a cuddler – it’s why she has so many pillows on her bed; and lastly c) she doesn’t want to get throttled in her sleep because she startled her ex-assassin girlfriend by cuddling her.

(The last one would be so fucking embarrassing, can you imagine?)

(Kevin would laugh for days. And he’d never let her live it down.)

Okay, now you’re wondering – but Veronica, Betty’s gotten used to you being a touchy kind of girlfriend, just look at the evidence; and yeah okay she’ll give you that but think about this, your Honour:

Sharing touches with Betty when she’s awake and startling her when she’s asleep are two very different sets of circumstances. Dangerously different. Like when you’re sleeping and there’s a glass of water next to bed, and you _know_ , it’s there. But what happens when you smack your hand against it while asleep? Do you remember it’s a glass while your hand’s wet? Do you seize up and think the worst? Yeah, well imagine what that’s like for a trained killer.

Yeah, not pretty, is it?

So they compromise – in other words Veronica declares she’s taking the left side and Betty’s taking the right. If Betty doesn’t toss and turn in her sleep, then there should be no problems. It’s bloody fool proof.

Right?

Right.

Wrong.

Wrong because Veronica’s woken up by light hitting her eyes, and when she opens them she sees it’s because she’s so close to Betty that the light from her phone feels like a lamp. Wrong because despite falling asleep with her back to Betty, hands wrapped around her pillow, she’s somehow latched onto the blonde’s arm _and_ wrapped them both in blankets. Wrong because despite all of this Betty’s watching something play out on her phone, earbuds in place. And pointedly not sleeping.

And all that compromising – look at it go, out the fucking window.

_So what the hell_ , Veronica thinks. She slides one of her hands down so she can tangle their fingers, blinking to stay awake as Betty flinches at the touch and looks at her. The restlessness, accompanied by a flash of guilt, sober Veronica up better than any bucket of ice water. She’s wide awake, and concerned.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Betty apologises – of all things – taking out her earbuds. Veronica frowns at her. “But you kinda snatched my arm when I tried to move.” She wiggles her fingers against Veronica’s, smiling softly.

“’Cause you’re supposed to be sleeping,” Veronica mumbles, sitting up.

“Yeah.” Is all Betty offers, looking down at her phone, and working her bottom lip.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Veronica asks, trying to keep her voice light, trying to show that Betty doesn’t have to say yes. Because she’s not going to push her. Talking helps but Veronica’s found that if you force someone to talk, it’ll be like pulling teeth and you might just get the opposite reaction. (Like with her.)

And sweet darling Betty’s probably mastered the _“don’t talk about it”_ skill. It seems like something they’d teach assassins, right after the 20 different ways to kill someone with a pen. (Was that oddly specific? Naaaah.)

“Maybe another time, Ronnie,” Betty whispers, thumb sliding over her phone. Veronica didn’t imagine Betty’s hand squeeze hers right before she says that. And doesn’t that pull at Veronica’s heart?

Instead of pushing, Veronica frees her hand so she can unwrap the blanket she’s hogged. Drapes it over both of them, and goes to put a pillow against the wall for her head. (And she’s ignoring Betty’s confused look while she does so.) Then she leans closer, stopping when their shoulders meet, unwilling to push further unless Betty says so.

“So what’re we watching?” She peers into Betty’s phone. Then her eyebrows quirk up, lips twitching at the corners. _Okay this looks adorable, what the –_ “Is that a dog dressed like a knight?”

“Uh, yeah? There’s also a cat thief and mouse wizards. See.” Betty fast-forwards the video and – there they are: little grey and white mice with a tiny pointy hats and a cat with ears peeking out of his hood. And there’s another cat and she looks regal as hell with that tiara.

“Oh my God that’s the cutest thing ever.” Veronica nearly squeals. She presses her lips together to keep it together and not completely wreck Betty’s hearing. She does sorta vibrate with the energy, though, until Betty puts her hand on Veronica’s thigh to calm her.

“Betty, you’ve been holding out on me.” Veronica gives her an amused grin and a nudge with her shoulder, eyes dancing with excitement. She softens up at how bashful Betty looks, barely supressing an indulgent grin, the one she’s so hesitant to share. _This woman,_ Veronica thinks and her heart swells. “So what’s this cuteness about?”

“It think it’s better to start from the beginning. It gets… convoluted.” Betty scrolls through her files – a lot of files, there must be at least 20 videos of this. Veronica’s simultaneously surprised and not, honestly.

What she is surprised about is that, after loading the first video, Betty wraps her arm around Veronica’s shoulder and. Pulls. Her. _Closer_. Lets her rest her head on her shoulder.

_Cool it Veronica, you hugged before._

_This is different, okay. D I F F E R E N T._

“Ronnie?”

“I’m fine. ‘S fine. Never better. We’re good. Let’s start this thing.”

“If you’d rather sleep –”

Veronica does let herself indulge in the urge to kiss Betty – mostly for being so considerate at the sight of Veronica’s insides melting. She keeps it brief though, because Betty’s visibly relaxing into the kiss, and the last thing both of their tired selves need is to start something they won’t finish.

“I’m good,” Veronica murmurs when she pulls away – And totally notices how Betty trailed after her, and that – that right there? It’s really, really tempting to go back, to lose herself in one Elizabeth Cooper, hard edges and soft looks.

And that’s how they spend their night, engrossed in a video series about animals playing Taverns and Giants. Veronica’s big enough to admit she gets invested in one of the mouse wizards (and has to stop herself from squealing every time she hears him cast a spell in a high-pitched, stuttering voice, and he tries so hard, she might actually start crying.) She also nudges Betty every time the thief cat shows up to do a wild stunt because she sees the way Betty’s carefully watching that cat, okay. Betty’s fooling no one.

Veronica doesn’t know when she fell asleep, just that the sky outside looked brighter and that the lizard wizard (yes, she’s coining that in) was attempting to hex an entire castle. She does know – sorta, through fuzzy memories – that something pressed onto her forehead. And there’s something else after that but that’s beyond her capabilities right now.

\-----

Let’s get one thing strai – sorted out.

Waking up early in the morning? Not a problem Veronica has. (Doing that after being piss-ass drunk notwithstanding.)

See it was either fail first year at Law School because she’s too lazy to get her ass to her 7am lectures (summoned from hell itself with a _delicate, handle with care_ stamp on them), and let all that money her mother put into paying her tuition (because she was fucking two points below the bar for a scholarship. Two. Fucking. Points. And you can bet your ass she’s still bitter about that. All that time during the summer wasted for two points) or. Or.

Or she could get up, and go to those 7am lectures, feeling like her body’s bereft of its soul, but looking fabulous while soulless.

(And you can bet your ass she passed all of those classes with highest scores. Spite, she’s found, is the ultimate motivator.)

It’s come to the point where oversleeping makes her feel worse than having less sleep – disoriented, sometimes grumpy but mostly slow in the mornings.

But when she startles awake at the sound of cars honking outside, Veronica’s disoriented for another set of reasons. For one she’s assaulted by the smell of rain and honey – two smells so distinctly Betty that it makes Veronica dizzy until she remembers to _breathe._ Another is the sight of Betty’s neck, up close where Veronica fell asleep buried in it, in her, and she takes another long whiff of that –

Home, that’s what she’s feeling; home and safe and _content_. It makes her throat dry up because, damn, with the deep breaths Betty’s blowing into her hair – isn’t that a heady combination. A combination she might get drunk on.

Another is the feel of an arm, warm and sturdy, wrapped around her middle, and fingers scratching her back through the blanket, through her shirt, with every inhale; how she remembers a different arm wrapped around her shoulder. Another is how numb her fingers are where they’re wound tight into Betty side, brunching up her shirt and showing a tantalising sliver of abs.

Finally, it’s how calm Betty looks in her sleep – calm and relaxed and young. She’s lived through so much that Veronica forgets just how young she is. How young they both are.

And really Veronica could stay here all day – no; forever.

But the sad reality is she needs to pee.

Veronica sighs, but tries to extricate herself as slowly as possible. It goes fine until she tries to move Betty’s arm. It just locks tighter around her, and pulls her closer. Betty grumbles, and when Veronica looks at her, her eyes are open. Sleepily watching her, uncomprehending what’s going on but very much on her – flickering, unfocused. _Scared._

_“I’m afraid that you – you’ll slip away. That if I –”_

Veronica’s chest hurts. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me; it’s okay, Betts.” She’s running a hand through messy blonde hair, tracing her thumb along Betty’s temple. “I just gotta use the bathroom. Sorry for waking you.”

Betty blinks slowly, eyes stilling, calming. Gradually her fingers brush down against Veronica’s back until they’re not there anymore. Instead they’re buried in a pillow, Betty’s face soon following with a grumble that sounds like a mash of _sorry_ and _okay._

One mad dash to and from the bathroom reveals Betty in the same position, sound asleep again, wild blonde hair somehow wilder. If it wasn’t closer to noon, Veronica would let her rest. Hell, join her even. As it stands, they’ve lost one day to a wild car chase, and she won’t let them sleep through another.

“Come on sleepy head,” Veronica sings as she hops back onto bed, mindful to avoid hopping onto Betty’s arm or her discarded phone. A phone that’s blinking with a new notification. Sadly Veronica doesn’t get to wonder too much about that since Betty wraps her arm around her middle, and basically _drags_ her closer.

“Betty!”

“No,” Betty grumbles, and she buries her face so close to Veronica’s thigh, she can actually feel Betty’s breaths. “Go tuh sleep. Sleep nice.”

“Are you always this cuddly in the morning?” Veronica smiles, hand combing through Betty’s hair before she could even think about it.

“No,” she mumbles, then adds after a breath. “Dunno.”

“Well we can’t spend all day in bed. There’s a nice beach waiting for us, you know.”

Betty just shakes her head, her nose trailing along Veronica’s thigh so lightly it tickles more than anything. The sight reminds her of a puppy.

“Come on, Betts. I’ll buy you some honeyed buns on the way there.” With the amount of honey Veronica sees Betty put in her tea, it’s a solid bet that Betty has a sweet tooth. If not for general sugar, then definitely for honey.

“No,” Betty grumbles again, pursing her lips, brows twitching.

“Then what?” Veronica shakes her head, brow raising in the beginnings of annoyance.

“Kisses,” Betty says so softly Veronica nearly misses it. It makes her laugh so much she has to bite her lip to stop.

“Kisses, huh?” Betty nods, nose digging into Veronica’s thigh. And Veronica has to bite her lip for different reasons. “All right, I suppose I can oblige.”

They don’t leave the bed for a little while longer.

\-----

This is how it starts:

As a peaceful walk to the beach. Until it isn’t.

“Elizabeth Merryweather Cooper –”

“That’s not my middle name.”

“–How dare you?” Veronica shouts, fixing her ( _“It’s too big, Ronnie.” “It’s perfect, shush”_ ) hat. She’s staring at her girlfriend in disbelief because of all the things she expected to hear on their way to the beach, this, _this_ is scandalous. The most scandalous accusation she’s heard since being in court with Ezra Locksley. ( _“The woman’s clearly reaching, your Honour.”_ )

Veronica stops a few paces in front of Betty, hands on her hips. “How dare you insinuate that I dreamed up you being a cuddler in the morning?”

“Because you did.” Betty for her part doesn’t stop to wait for Veronica. Probably because they’d never reach the beach at that rate. Veronica’s big enough to admit that. But this level of nonchalance at these baseless accusations – she’s honestly surprised. Flabbergasted. Befuddled.

This will not do at all.

“Oh, I see.” She walks after Betty, briskly enough not to upset her hat. Betty’s still ignoring her glares and wow, so rude. “So I also dreamed that you wouldn’t let me go unless I showered you with kisses?”

“Yep,” Betty says almost immediately. She clears her throat as if feeling Veronica’s unimpressed gaze because _busted._ “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Oh so you think I give my kisses out freely, is that it?” Okay even Veronica’s getting conscious about her high-pitched, outrageous voice but you know what? Doesn’t matter, she’s committing to this now. And she didn’t win over 4 dozen cases without being committed to the act.

This is how it starts:

Hand over her heart in a clearly dramatic show of outrage and hurt; tilting her head upward as if calling the heavens to answer _how could this be happening?_ A long inhale that borders on sniffing, mumbling something so incoherent just to spice up how close she is to crying; fanning herself with the other hand to both keep the tears at bay and to battle the heat.

“Wow. Wow, my own girlfriend. How dare –”

This is how it starts:

Betty looking over – one look, barely over the top of her sunglasses; lips quirked up unevenly, showing just how much she’s enjoying this, showing that she’s not fooled for a moment – not even a moment; brows raised in confidence because she has something, something she just can’t wait to fire back.

“I dare because I’m not the one who hogged your arm and cocooned it in a blanket.”

This is how it ends:

Betty Cooper going straight for the jugular.

Veronica’s so surprised her whole act falls flat on its face. She just stands there, looking at Betty with her mouth open and disbelieving. It’s when Betty fixes her sunglasses – having slipped down her nose – that Veronica snaps back into action.

“I came out to have a good time and I’m feeling so attacked right now.” And she barely keeps herself from smiling, scrapping every ounce of will she can.

This is how it ends:

With Betty groaning, palm flat against her face despite the sunglasses, and Veronica laughing triumphantly.

“Oh my – where do you get these memes??? They’re ancient!” Betty’s waving her hand as if she’s trying to materialise all of the memes she’s alluding to.

“The internet has many things, Elizabeth Helena Cooper.” Veronica taps her nose in passing, grin wide and shameless as it is happy and amused. She does elaborate, when Betty scoffs in a way that spells _“bullshit.”_ “Bianca also has an archive full of them.”

“Wow, that’s…. terrifying.” Betty stops, considering. Then she bites her lip but there, Veronica can make out just the tiniest beginnings of laughter. “Too much memes for such a small person.”

For the love of –

“When will the callouts end???” Veronica wails, hands raised to the heavens, head tilted so back her hat’s askew again. And throughout it all she’s got a smile on her face, one Betty matches.

“Who knows?” Betty shrugs, and leans in close, suspiciously closer than necessary to fix Veronica’s hat. Right as Veronica’s expecting a kiss on the cheek, Betty’s lips slide over to her ear, and Veronica’s nerves are sitting on end.

There are many things Veronica imagines when Betty leans in close to whisper, in equal parts adoring and sinful, calming and electric, reassuring and provoking.

But this – “Not my middle name.” – is not one of them.

This is how it ends:

With Veronica smacking Betty in the shoulder, and laughter following their trail to the beach.

\-----

It’s surprising that they even manage to find a spot on the beach with how many tourists Balvience gets this time of the year.

You know what else is surprising? Betty Cooper in a one-piece swimsuit.

Now Veronica has snuck glances at her while they were getting dressed, you know after she bribed Betty with enough kisses to leave Betty giggling – giggling, yet another thing Veronica adds to her list of _Memories of Betty Cooper you can pry out of my cold dead hands._ She couldn’t see much, mostly how her arms flexed as she dressed – and boy what a sight, Veronica’s throat dried up so quickly she started coughing to clear it.

(Which turned into a legitimate coughing fit. Veronica was so busy hounding for water that she caught the tail end of Betty’s look, just a sliver of burning emotion before Betty shook her head and it was gone. But that sliver, the heat she caught in just that little sliver.

It brought goose bumps all over her arms.)

But looking at her girlfriend, without anything to distract her from the scarred, sculptured back on display because the swimsuit is backless – _God bless_ – and following how the muscles shift with each move as Betty stretches out of her shirt, and her arms, holy shit her arms; Veronica has felt them, felt the muscles against her back when they hugged or when Betty pulled her close but seeing them in broad daylight –

_Breathe, Veronica. You know – inhale, exhale, that sorta thing?_

She’s fairly sure if she could, she would’ve bitten through her lip.

And as the enthusiasm at the sight slowly fades (more like gets shoved down with each conscious exhale) Veronica’s eyes start to map out unfamiliar territory. Scars – some long like the one following Betty’s spine along her left side; some short like the ones on her shoulders, overlapping so much, she doubts any part of that skin is unmarred; some small and round like the many bullet wounds her eyes dot around to, trying to connect in an incoherent art piece.

(And her eyes stop, her breathing falters, more than a few times at the one specific scar – a bullet wound that could’ve taken her away. Each and every time her eyes stop and she blinks, she sees red all over Mantle’s hands, sees how fragile Betty looked in his arms, imagines – knows, _feels_ how cold Betty must be.)

It makes her stop and think, how much Betty had to endure; how much she had to survive to just walk away. She wonders how much of herself had she left behind, just to survive? How much these scars are memories of pieces she’s given up?

And her heart aches – truly aches like someone tore it out and started squeezing it right in front of her. Aches for this woman, for this lovely, kind woman who had to endure so much and is still capable of giving more of herself. Still willing to. And she’s constantly giving, bit by bit, sliver by sliver, and –

Veronica doesn’t want her to have nothing. She’d give all her pieces back if it meant Betty would have something of herself left.

A thumb sliding along her cheek startles her. She blinks and finally feels the wetness in her eyes, feels the wetness the thumb smeared along her cheek. Blinks and sees Betty looking at her, concerned and hesitant – as hesitant as the touch on her cheek, ready to pull away at a shift of a breath.

“Ronnie?” God even her voice is pulled back, so light as to not startle her. So scared underneath.

_And doesn’t that feel familiar?_

“I’m fine. I’m fine, Betts. Really, I don’t know – I just – I –” She tries, but word after word her throat clogs more and more until it’s hard to even swallow let alone speak. So she doesn’t. With a shake of her head, Veronica wraps her arms around Betty, buries fingers into thick blonde hair, breathes in rain and honey and – is this what it feels like to tear your heart in two, this want to give it to someone because you know they’d never ever throw it away, this terrifying feeling of just how much you’re sure of the fact?

Veronica has given pieces of herself, and vowed never again, it’s too much and she – she’s so tired of giving and not having anything to show for it and and and

“Sorry.” But for her, for Betty she’d give all of herself without a second thought. It’s so easy and it feels, feels so right to do because, because when she’s with her, even now in her arms on a beach half a continent away from her last safe space, from the last stable thing she’s made.

It feels safe.

“I’m sorry.” Veronica mumbles into her shoulder.

“Why are you apologising?” Betty whispers, hands running along Veronica’s back.

_Because you’ve endured so much and you deserve the world – hell I’ll give you the world because that’s less terrifying than giving you all of me._

_And even then I’d still give you all of me._

They came to the beach to relax, to have fun. Not for Veronica to cry her heart out because Betty Cooper deserves so much more than the mess that is Veronica Lodge.

\-----

( _“You’re not a mess. Stop saying you’re a mess.”_

_Veronica looks down, blinking furiously because Veronica Lodge refuses to cry in front of her girlfriend. Especially at their workplace. “But –”_

_“Stop it. Stop, Ronnie.” Hands are on her cheeks, gently guiding her until she’s looking at – at tearful eyes but so full of conviction. (And adoration and something – something Veronica’s not quite ready yet.)_

_“You’re not a mess,” Betty says resolutely._

_Veronica scoffs, eyes challenging. “Yeah, like any normal person plans out a spy network just to feel safe. Like any normal person can’t stand still because she thinks the shadows will come to haunt her again.”_

_Betty’s eyes soften, and her lips twitch up a few times until they remain upward, in a small, impish smile._

_“Maybe,” she says. “Then again not a normal person would date a contract killer with baggage taller than this room.” Betty leans forward until their foreheads touch, and breathes out a shaky breath. Veronica mimics shortly after._

_“You’re not a mess. You’re a person. You’re Veronica fucking Lodge and no one decides what that means other than you._

_“And hell, even if you are a mess,” Betty smiles, giddy and it’s so abrupt it makes Veronica’s thoughts pause. “I’m a mess right alongside you.”_

_A bark of laughter escapes Veronica. Because, well –_

_If that isn’t a declaration of something._

_“And what a pair we make, huh?” Veronica buries her face in Betty’s neck because she can’t look at her, at the conviction in those eyes. It’s enough to make her stupid brave. “You’re too good, y’know?”_

_“No, but you remind me what it’s like to try.”_

_And there is that something again._ )

\-----

The last name Veronica expects to see on her screen is that of Jughead Jones.

(Sometimes she thinks he forgets he even has a phone.)

“Since when do you call?” She asks incredulously. Because really, he doesn’t call. In fact she’d bet all of her apricot buns he specifically avoids doing phone calls. (And it’s not like he avoided her calls, for work related topics, to the point that it’s quicker if Veronica goes down into his alcove and argue with him directly.)

_“Since you left Cheryl to go on a power trip freely,”_ he bites out, in usual Jones’ annoyance, though he’s sounding extra petty.

“A power trip? Did she say something about your beanie again?” Veronica scrunches up her brows, looking unimpressed despite Jones not being able to see her – it figures that when he does decide to call, it’s a voice call. He really refuses to show his face.

_“Not everything is about that.”_

“Jones.”

_“She said she was gonna toss it in the trash where it belongs!”_ He sounds outraged, as if Cheryl threatened to dismantle all of his equipment and computers. Honestly, and people say she’s the dramatic one.

(She is.)

It’s a miracle Veronica supresses a sigh. Pinching her brow helps, apparently. “Have you washed it recently?”

_“I will not stand for this kind of slander!”_

“So sit down,” is her immediate response. She can just make out Betty’s curious look out of the corner of her eye. She gives her a resigned shake of her head. “I’m pretty sure you’re doing that already anyway.”

_“Oh ha ha. Funny, Lodge.”_

“Thank you, I think so, too.”

_“Still doesn’t negate the real problem here. Cheryl is running a dictatorship around here.”_

“Jones, just change the beanie,” she says matter-of-fact, leaning back into her chair. It’s a lovely view of the Olbes docks from their terrace, especially with how the evening sky complements the calm waters and majorly white and red boats. So calming.

She should’ve known something would interrupt it, really.

_“Oh. Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?”_ Okay he’s raising the dramatic pitch of his voice, that’s never a good sign with him. _“I send you a warning text –”_

“Which was super helpful, great job, Forsythe.”

_“That is sensitive information, Lodge.”_ And okay now he sounds even more outraged. Like tier two Jughead Jones outrage. And always about his name. You’d think he’d have it legally changed if he didn’t like it, but noooo.

“It’s your bloody name. Which Betty already knows because she read your file, you dumbass.” Speaking of Betty, she’s munching hard on those honeyed buns. They got them on the way back from the beach (Veronica nearly lost her arm with how abruptly Betty stopped in front of the pastry shop) and they bought enough that Veronica expected them to last till breakfast.

Then again who’s she to argue when she gets to see Betty Cooper covered in sugar powder. Sunburned and covered in sugar powder. She even has some on her nose. _Dork._

_“Sensitive!”_ Jughead spits out – nearly shouts and Veronica distances the phone from her ear for a moment. Well if he’s so quick to get side-tracked from his initial complaint, things must be going all right. Not that she doubted Cheryl. However, running a spy network is tricky at best, downright nerve-wracking at worst.

_“You know what, fine,”_ Jughead huffs on the other end when Veronica brings the phone back. _“Enjoy your vacation, see if you get another Mantle-alert text.”_

Oh what a threat. She’s terrified, truly.

“Have fun, don’t send memes to Cheryl’s mail,” she sing-songs, smiling at the image of his disgusted face at the tone. (He does that so well that Veronica goes out of her way to fish it out.)

_“See if you can stop me.”_

And the line’s dead before Veronica can try to dissuade him. She wouldn’t; one doesn’t dissuade Jughead Jones once he grits out and gets that spite-empowered look in his eyes. But hey it’s the thought that counts. Right?

Dropping her phone on the small table, Veronica decides that it’ll have to count. At least on Jughead’s end. On the other hand – she should probably send a text to Cheryl and ask her not to fillet their tech expert and resident hermit. She’d been so close to doing that after the gif debacle that Betty had to come between them; Veronica wonders if she’ll even manage to stop her at this point, so far away.

She could always send Josie a text, but if she’s remembering the schedules right (she is) Josie’s halfway across the world right now. She still makes a mental note to discreetly suggest she call Cheryl anyway. Veronica wants someone to be left alive when they get back.

Betty looks at her wearily, halfway to eating another honeyed bun. She raises her brows – a miniscule movement, nothing more than a twitch but it’s long enough to get the question across.

_Trouble?_

“Cheryl’s threatening Jughead’s hermit lifestyle.”

Betty’s look turns thoughtful, munching on one of her few remaining buns. She doesn’t try to speak before swallowing it. “He’s not taking it well.”

It’s not phrased as a question. Veronica taps her fingers against the table, conceding the point. “He’s not taking it well at all. True Jones fashion.”

“Is that a family thing?” Betty wonders, scratching her cheek and spreading more sugar on it.

“Not predominantly. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting them – the family minus his dog – and, well.” Veronica tilts her head thinking, making a ‘so and so’ gesture with her hand before dropping it back on the table. “There might’ve been a dash of dramatics. But held back, you know? Muted.” _Kept in check._

Betty hums noncommittally, toying with one of the buns. “I’m surprised she even went into his abode.”

“She has to make sure he’s actually alive and not replaced by a bot,” Veronica hums, fingers now tapping out a song she’s heard in the hotel lobby on their way back.

“But a bot wouldn’t match the fine line between sarcasm and wit,” Betty points out, fingers sticky from her little mishap with the filling. Then she’s thinking over something, probably whether to wipe her fingers or eat them clean, and her powdered nose scrunches up. Veronica covers her mouth because the smile she feels spreading couldn’t be described as anything other than stupid happy.

“Given time, who knows?” She looks down when Betty starts to suck on her fingers. Veronica’s not going to press her luck with _that sight._ Instead she rummages through her box of apricot buns, needing something sweet and sour and, really, she hasn’t eaten apricots in what feels like ages.

It’s why she bought over a dozen. That the saleswoman put in this box specifically. The same box that is half empty – no, less than that even. Now, you might think – oh she just forgot she ate them. Nah, Veronica didn’t even get to touch one before Jones called her. And her mami taught her better than to talk with her mouth full.

So that just left one culprit.

Veronica narrows her eyes. “Betty,” she says sweetly until Betty looks up from her fingers, “did you eat all of the apricot buns?”

Betty looks down to where Veronica’s gesturing at her box, then back up, confused. Or feigning confusion. “No, there’s five for you.”

Veronica gives her a look that screams _no shit._

“There were fourteen in the batch, Betty. My batch.” Veronica taps the box, now closed. She raises her brows at Betty’s light shrug, eyes following as she leans her elbows on the table.

“I didn’t eat them.” Betty gives her an impassive face, her trademark bodyguard Betty face. Hiding everything, the perfect mix of indifference and confidence.

She’s not buying it.

Veronica keeps her eyes trained on Betty’s face, looking for anything to give her away – because if you think Veronica Lodge is going to believe her buns simply vanished off this terrace, well guess again. She didn’t win all those cases by ignoring her instincts. No, she waits and watches and draws out the cracks, the tells, the _mistakes_ – and pounces, tears them apart, drags them to sunlight to suit her fancy and win her the case.

_“Sink or swim.”_

And then she sees it, just a glimmer of light brown behind Betty’s ponytail.

“No, you just hid a box of them behind you,” Veronica challenges, eyebrow raised and hands beneath her chin. She doesn’t know when Betty could’ve had the chance to do that, but she’s done a fairly good job. Except the wind fucked it up.

Betty doesn’t even blink at the accusation. “What? No. Lies.”

And really, Veronica will be the first to praise someone for committing to a role, lie, charade, whatever you like. But these are her sweets we’re talking about here. And no one touches her sweets.

“Betts,” Veronica keeps her voice sweet, airy. Betty hums, eyes dancing everywhere before they land on Veronica’s own. Veronica gives her a wicked smile. “The wind blew your hair out of the way.”

All Betty manages is a quiet _“oh shit”_ and Veronica’s out of her seat, practically throwing herself over the table to get to the box. She manages to come close enough for her fingers to skim over the lid. But Betty wraps an arm around her waist, and pulls her back, fingers somehow still sticky pressing firmly into her skin.

“Ronnie no,” Betty shouts. She has the gall to laugh while Veronica’s desperately trying to stretch out of her grasp and grab the box. When that fails, Veronica tries pushing Betty away from her to try and topple them over.

“You’ll get hyperactive if you eat all of them,” Betty says between Veronica’s fingers, with Veronica’s palm pressing into the side of her face. She’s still laughing. The fucking nerve. (It’s music to her ears.)

(Never mind that she’s talking some sense. Veronica will never, ever admit she gets twitchy from too many sweets.)

“I want my apricot buns, damn it! I bought them fair and square,” Veronica shouts. She tries to jump out of Betty’s grasp, but the blonde only tightens her arm around her, and Veronica may have put too much effort into her jump.

Veronica hears Betty whisper a _“shit”_ before they both topple to the floor in a heap. She’s not sure how, but Betty ended up falling first, on her back and hissing from the contrast of cold tiles on her burnt skin. Veronica landed with her chin hitting her arm, which y’know is better than hitting the tiles, but it still makes her wince and a shudder run through her. (And Betty’s arm is kinda digging into her gut.)

“My buns,” Veronica whines, barely above a whisper since the air’s been blown out of her lungs from the fall.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Betty hisses out. Her fingers flex against Veronica’s side, so she still has some circulation in her arm. “I’d like my arm back, please.”

Veronica grumbles but rolls over so she’s lying on the floor instead. She looks over as Betty flexes her arm and fingers, and chuckles. Betty sends her a curious look as Veronica stands up and offers Betty a hand.

She doesn’t elaborate, not until Betty’s sitting upright and Veronica’s crouching down. “I suppose I can settle for this sugar.”

And without further warning she leans forward to kiss the sugar powder off Betty’s nose.

\------

The next morning finds Veronica in a familiar setting: arms wrapped around her back, nose buried in a familiar hot neck, fingers scratching warm red skin, and barely there puffs of air blown into Veronica’s hair.

It’s enough to make her laugh, loud enough to stir Betty but not enough for her to open her eyes. And if she can’t see Veronica’s shit-eating grin, then she’ll just have to feel it against her neck. Right along with the words _“Told you so.”_

Betty grumbles something between _shush_ and _sleep_ into Veronica’s hair, arm tightening until they’re pressed so much Veronica wouldn’t know to tell you where one ended and the other began.

(Though Betty’s sunburned skin would be a good hint. Honestly, Veronica hasn’t seen someone burn that quickly since her first vacation with Keller. Thankfully Betty doesn’t give her an earful about it like he did.)

\------

Josie’s texts sound way less hopeful than she wants to see, and they lack the right amount of emojis so yeah – she’s definitely not optimistic about Cheryl’s lack of homicidal tendencies for one Jughead Jones. Bleary-eyed Veronica sends a warning to Polly, who oddly enough has become their resident deescalator when Betty’s not around. The warning’s just so Polly’d keep an eye on Cheryl and not get surprised if some of their knives go missing (though Veronica doubts Polly would be fazed by it.)

Veronica raises her brows at how quickly Polly responds, since it’s near 5am back at base if she’s counting the time zones correctly. The response is just an array of emojis which tell her all she needs to know of Polly’s current state. Tired, exasperated, unsurprised and a big _aye, aye, ma’am._ And she’s fairly sure the last four were cat emojis. Well, they are always relevant but what?

Veronica sighs, dropping her phone on the table. She presses her palms into her eyes to ease up the headache that’s building. If it’s not that, it’s the sluggishness and really, she’ll take the latter over the former any day of the week.

_You wanted to sleep in._

It’s not her fault Betty’s a very comfortable cuddler, despite her skin being warm from the burns.

“Has Cheryl begun her rampage?” Betty asks. When Veronica blinks the fog away from her eyes, she focuses on Betty chewing her breakfast, concentrating on counting the movements of her jaw so her thoughts can sort themselves out. (And for once she’s not mapping out the muscle movement.)

“Josie’s calmed her enough to only hurt Jughead.” Veronica blinks, shaking herself awake again once Betty swallows. She tries to eat her apricot buns with her toast, her movements sluggish. The abundance of sleep is really getting to her.

“That’s better than nothing.”

Veronica hums in agreement, still focused on finishing breakfast.

“And it’s to be expected. Cheryl doesn’t seem the type to forgive shitty memes,” Betty adds, far too innocently.

Veronica hums before she realises that, if Jughead sent memes to Cheryl, he’d have to get them from somewhere. He’s got a stock but it’s hardly that big. And since Bianca’s willing to help out over the most obscene things, she most likely gave him suggestions. From her archive. _Veronica’s_ archive.

_Ding, ding, ding._

“Betty Ravenia Cooper,” Veronica exclaims indignantly, pastry half way to her mouth.

“Not even close, Ronnie.” Betty smiles, smug. That coupled with her messy bun, which is falling apart, makes it very hard to actually stay angry with her. _Goddamned Betty Cooper._

“I will not have you slander my glorious meme archive at this table.” Veronica raises her fork in warning. “Especially after I was kind enough to share my apricot buns with you.”

“Oh yes, so thoughtful of you, Ronnie.”

“Damn right it is.” Veronica nods, a pleased smile growing on her face as Betty rolls her eyes.

The resulting fork fight over the last bun helps wake Veronica up completely.

\------

If you managed to get her in a particular mood, Veronica would tell you how ashamed she is that it took her two hours to figure out Betty’s staying in the shallows purposefully, and not because there are kids splashing and running all over the place.

(Though that probably factored in.)

But once she does, you can bet anything she suggests they change beaches.

“It’s getting too crowded around here. And there’s so much attention lil ol’ me can take, Betts.” And she throws in a wink for good measure, just to seal the deal.

If Betty finds it suspicious, she doesn’t say anything. Just silently walks with Veronica until they’re on a beach closer to the Nicassian Bay, where the shallows stretch out longer and gradually get deeper as one passes the algae covered stones.

They settle down closer to the stones, while most others circle around the bar and marked paths. Thankfully Betty doesn’t mention this beach being as crowded as the previous one, not that Veronica doesn’t have an excuse at the ready – _there’s more shade for you, the air is more rich with minerals, the bar has better drinks, yeah okay it’s crowded but it’s not rich people crowded, Betts._

Instead, Betty gives Veronica her hat back – the outrageously large one which Veronica plopped on Betty’s head for protection and darted out of Betty’s reach when the blonde tried to give it back. With a long look at the beach Betty says she’s going to _“test the waters_. _”_ And if Veronica keeps her eyes trained on Betty, watching her as she carefully enters the water, watches as her hands dip below the surface a little more easily –

Watches until Betty dives below the surface. Holds her breath ( _blue – cold – so cold and – white, white all over with –_ ) until she remerges in a splash. Relaxes back into her chair when Betty starts to swim around leisurely.

So what if she does all of that?

She’s allowed to look out for her girl, isn’t she?

\-----

If there’s anything her mom would recommend them to do during vacation it’s to visit the Mel Ravaux restaurant because _“Mija if there’s a magical place with the perfect mix of salads, fried pork and seasoning, it’s that place.”_ And that’s high praise since whenever Veronica comes home before her mom, she hears grumbles when the other Lodge comes home – grumbles about _it’s too salty he says_ or _sour, who puts sour sauce with tomatoes in that dish?_ Or _I am this close to locking up and holding a seminar, mija._

So naturally Veronica doesn’t pass up on the opportunity to spoil Betty with (fancy) food, especially since the restaurant’s two streets away from the Nicassian Bay. Even if Betty stubbornly orders the least fancy dish on the menu, and ignores Veronica’s pointed looks. But Veronica beats her to it when ordering their drinks – _“the most expensive local wine they have.”_

“Speaking of wine,” Veronica says after taking a sip, letting the taste wash down her throat. She’s still not sure how she managed to miss out on drinking this wine the last time she was here. A scandal, truly. “Mantle’s mentioned he has a friend with a winery around here.”

“Did he?” Betty raises a brow. She glances over Veronica’s shoulder briefly – a blink and you’ll miss it move. It’s something Veronica’s come to expect of Betty, even during what’s supposed to be a relaxing vacation. Perhaps if it didn’t start so roughly, Betty’d have little reason to keep up with the suspicious glances.

Although the way she fiddles with her fish knife is new. Every odd glance Veronica throws her way she’s turning the knife this way and that. If not for her finesse with the blade, she’d have cuts all over her fingers if not outright lose one.

“Yes. Says we might get free tastings if we mention him. It’s his way of apologising for dropping by unannounced.”

Betty snorts, continuing her meal. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Well dropping by and dragging us into a possibly life threatening car chase is a bit wordy, Betts.” Veronica smirks, spearing a few tomatoes. “You think we’ll actually get a wine tasting or the guy’ll just throw wine at us?”

“Both are likely. Depends, really.” Betty looks up briefly and her brows twitch. Before Veronica can react though she shrugs, and continues to munch on her fish fillet.

“I love it when it depends. Adore the phrase.” Veronica raises her fork, gesturing at Betty with a grin. “Especially when _you_ say it. Really warms my heart, darling.”

“So much sarcasm, where do you hide it all, Ronnie?”

Veronica narrows her eyes suspicious, carefully chewing her meal. “Is this another callout? Really, you’re still poking at my height?”

Betty just smiles that secretive little smile, giving her a brief look between bites. That smile, though Betty uses it at the most infuriating of times, never fails to bring out the playful side of the blonde, never fails to entrance Veronica, to tempt her with what it hides.

“So what does our wine tasting depend on?” Veronica asks. She waits for Betty to look up before taking a purposefully slow bite of her meal, carefully snapping her teeth around her fork, and slowly dragging her lips down. The way Betty’s eyes follow the movement make it all the more delicious.

_Payback._

“Betts?” Veronica lets her lips curl into a satisfied smirk at how long it takes Betty to collect herself. When she does, Betty takes a large swing of her wine.

“Depends whether we meet the father or the son.”

Veronica perks up, smelling drama a mile away. (And some lovely flowery perfume.) “Drama? With Mantle right in the middle of it? Betty, darling, babe, sweetheart –”

“Ronnie, stop,” Betty whines ( _whines, oh my God_ ) and her cheeks are red in a different shade than that of burnt skin, that has Veronica biting the inside of her cheek.

“You’ve got to stop hoarding these juicy drama stories. You’ve seen how I live for this shit.” Betty rolls her eyes, giving Veronica enough time to glance down and – yep, she’s still got a tight grip on her fish knife. More than necessary.

“Sometimes I think you made the pysay network just to get juicy rumours,” Betty says so with a small quirk of her lips and a raised brow in challenge.

“Oh I had the most righteous of intentions, I assure you,” Veronica counters, leaning forward to rest her chin on a free hand.

Betty grins something wicked, leaning forward like she’s going to divulge some big secret. It’s got Veronica standing on the edge of her seat because that smile, it’s not a smile she sees often – not for a lack of trying. And every time she does see it, well – it does things to her she’d rather not say.

In public.

“You really wanna lie to me, Veronica?” Betty’s voice is low, light yet holds something heavy, like the darkness behind her eyes. Veronica can’t help be enticed by it, can’t help but feel herself alight with the need to find out just what’s Betty hiding under that confident smirk.

“You dropped your spoon,” Betty says abruptly. Then she leans back and the spell is broken, leaving Veronica blinking back confusion.

“My spoon?”

“Yeah the dessert spoon, I think?” Betty looks to the floor on Veronica’s right. Veronica’s not sure when she managed to slide that spoon to the ground, but complies anyway. (Proper manners and all that. Wouldn’t do to have her mom’s Mom Senses tingling.)

She bends down, eyes instantly finding the little metal spoon, stark against the red tiles. As she’s picking it up, Veronica could swear she feels a light breeze over her left shoulder. She straightens but there’s hardly any wind, and Betty’s focused on her meal. Veronica narrows her eyes, but doesn’t comment on the weird breeze.

“Found it?” Betty asks, looking up.

“Yep.” Veronica twirls the small spoon before depositing it in the middle of the table, a safe distance from any other mishaps. “Now back to the juicy drama.”

“You remember Mantle’s tall tale of stealing a cruise ship?”

“You mean the empty cruise ship?”

“Well, not exactly empty. Valencio Junior, the son of the winery owner was on it.”

Veronica takes a long swing of her wine, already feeling that this is going to be a juicy tale.

It’s somewhere in the middle of Betty recreating the yacht’s trail with her hands, that Veronica casts a glance down at Betty’s empty plate and pauses. She quickly returns her attention to Betty, eyes following wild gestures and an indulgent smile spreading on Veronica’s face.

But she makes a mental note – Betty’s using her meat knife.

\------

If you managed to catch her in the right mood, she’d let you in on a little secret – Veronica Lodge isn’t a fan of thunderstorms.

Never was much of one when she was younger, but after her mother’s operation (and all that directly led to it) she’s not a fan at all. Since Bianca wishes to be helpful, for some odd reason that Veronica just associates to Bianca being Bianca, they’ve developed a system.

Whenever there’s a thunderstorm approaching, Bianca would notify Veronica at least a day in advance. (A timeframe they’ve set up via empirical data collection on Bianca’s part. The first few times were a mess as a result, and Veronica would rather not remember them.)

However Balvience has a nasty habit of having fast developing thunderstorms, courtesy of the mountain range, bordering the northeast of the city’s outer residential area. It’s also why Bianca sent her a notification while she was busy watching out for her girlfriend in the ocean.

But it’s completely on Veronica for forgetting about the notification afterward. And she has no one but herself to blame for getting startled awake by the loud roar of thunder. (Well maybe she has Betty to blame for leaving the terrace door open, but honestly, do you think she’ll bring herself to hold onto that?)

Still Veronica is a Lodge and the Lodges are a particular sort of stubborn – persistent – _stubborn_. That’s the basis of her method – if you try to ignore the thunderstorms and aggressively try to fall back asleep despite them, you’re bound to either: a) fall back asleep at some point or b) find your headphones and marathon some show until you reach point a)

(Sometimes there’s a c) you just wander outside, aimless, restless like the sky above. Sometimes it helps to just be out there and not be stuck in _there._ )

Simple, right?

_“It’s simple, doll. You tell me about the computer and I don’t fill you up with lead.”_

Veronica winds her fingers tighter into – _her mom’s blouse, trying to push her back so she’s not in front of the gun; fingers wound tight like she’s a kid again and she’s watching a spooky film with her mom because it’s not spooky at all._

_Her throat’s clogged –_ she groans into her pillow, head thrown to the side and sweating something fier – _cold sweat’s sticking her hair to her neck, making her both antsy and cold, making her uncomfortable in her own skin making her –_

_Trapped in this place, in her own skin, unable to do anything, unable to say anything to stop her mother from arguing, to move, just take a fucking step –_ Veronica’s thrashing, legs tangled in bedsheets, and she can’t escape no matter how much she kicks and –

A rumble –

_A bang_ –

“Noo,” Veronica whines – _wails. There’s blood everywhere, over her hands, at her feet and she can’t. Fucking. Move. Just stand there and stare, stare and stare until all she hears is her heartbeat and all she sees is metal and red and –_

“Ronnie?”

_“Veronica!”_

Veronica tosses – _she can’t look away from her mother, she’s to terrified to look away what I she disappears if Veronica looks away, there’s a gun but she can’t – she can’t please – please_

Another rumble –

_Another bang –_

“Ronnie, hey.”

_– And this time, this time she’s not looking at her mom. No, no the bang’s not for her it’s – it’s for Betty. Cold, pale, and beaten up Betty, barely holding on –_

_Because of you, because of you, it’s always because of you, isn’t it Lodge?_

_A bloody smile._

_“Ronnie –”_

“Veronica, wake up.” Betty’s voice rings out clearer than the bloody counterpart. She feels a firm hand on her shoulder, fingers dragging down slowly. “It’s not real. Whatever it is it’s not real. It’s –”

Another rumble.

_Blood splashes against her face, she –_

Mid whimper, Veronica feels hands come around her face, sliding up until fingers tangle into her hair. She feels the words _“I’ve got you”_ against her forehead.

She jolts awake so jarringly that if Betty wasn’t holding her face, she’d head-butt her. Right now, as she’s slowly coming to, as the room’s slowly emerging from the black void, Veronica realises she’s not hearing the thunderstorm anymore. Rather it’s humming, pressed into her hairline with fingers tapping out an accompanying rhythm along her back and arms.

( _“Hey, hey. It’s okay.”_ Rings in the back of her mind with the phantom sensations of arms holding her, cradling her head and – and humming and her chest hurts for a different reason – nostalgic and full and burning.)

It’s the familiarity of it that guides her to Betty’s neck, to bury her nose and just breathe, to wrap her arms around Betty until her fingers are pressing into her shirt, until it feels real and dry and blood-free; until Betty feels warm and alive and not –

She breathes and listens to the humming; feels fingers mapping out shapes on her back and falls back asleep thinking _safe safe safe safe._

\-----

( _“I can’t believe you actually eat here.” Veronica looks up from her bowl of pudding, surprised to see Cheryl approach with a dripping umbrella._

_“It’s a restaurant, what am I supposed to do?” Veronica raises an eyebrow, eyes following Cheryl until she sits down across._

_“I figured you’re using it as a meeting spot. A tacky, relatively unknown and so un-Veronica meeting spot.” Cheryl sends a few side-glances at the décor, nose crunching up here and there and lips kept in a tight frown – in true subtle Cheryl Blossom fashion._

_“Please, we’re been to tackier places.”_

_“Yes, half way on the road to drunkenness with a few sleepless nights trailing behind like lapdogs.”_

_“Oh no. The Higgins’ Parlour – that happened while we were sober. In fact you specifically took me there, Cheryl.”_

_Cheryl looks at her, eyes holding a warning. “I did nothing of the sort.”_

_“So did.”_

_An eyebrow twitch. “Then you were definitely not sober or lucid because you’re misremembering that.”_

_“Right. Definitely.” Veronica looks down, cutting into her pudding quite viciously, mashing it over and over. In the end, Veronica breaks the silence with a soft question: “Why are you here?”_

_Cheryl scoffs, tapping the table – one, two, one, two. “I adore visiting places like these at 4am on a drizzle –”_

_“Cheryl.” Veronica looks up._

_Cheryl clicks her tongue and inclines her head. “Smithers has my number.” She rolls her eyes and waves her hand in a circular motion, the combination being her trademark ‘for whatever reason’ reaction. “He was worried you’d catch pneumonia or something.”_

_“Tell him I’m fine.” Even the words sound hollow._

_“Are you?” Cheryl looks thoughtful, hand somehow half way to where Veronica’s wound tight around the bowl of warming pudding. It’s there but it’s not moving, not breaching._

_An invitation._

_“Of course.” Veronica inclines her head, twitches her brows as if there’s any other answer than ‘of course’. She doesn’t know what compels her to continue talking. Maybe it’s the doubt in Cheryl’s eyes, so refreshingly clear. Maybe it’s because it’s so clear – something Cheryl tries to keep back as much as possible._

_“Sleepless nights full of nightmares leave you craving chocolate pudding. Nothing weird about that.” Veronica shrugs, and Cheryl furrows her brows briefly, but doesn’t press._

_Cheryl stays till morning, mostly commenting the decor, the menu and how to improve it. Even goes so far as to fish out the manager’s email so she could send them the list with improvements she’s made in the past hour. (And it’s oddly touching, those little moments where she’s allowing herself to care.)_

_Oddly enough Veronica’s nerves have calmed enough that she’s not twitching at every distant rumble or flash of light outside. Not that Cheryl comments on those._ )

\-----

“Would you get that, please?” Veronica asks when her phone pings with a new notification, and she’d rather finish applying intense sunblock on Betty’s back than deal with any possible drama that one notification harbours. (And it’s sure to be drama. Cheryl hasn’t reacted to Jughead’s meme onslaught, as far as Polly knows – which means Cheryl’s planning something big for such a two-day delay.)

(And let’s not kid ourselves Veronica, Betty’s back is way more interesting than any drama.)

( _Scandalous, Veronica. What would Kevin think if he heard you?_ )

Betty mumbles something, hand tapping against the sheets in search of Veronica’s phone. After three failed tries, Betty presses a grumble into her forearm, finally raising her head and glaring at the mess of pillows and sheets. She finds the phone, somehow inside one of the pillow sheets, before Veronica can point out that Betty’s pouting.

“Andrews sends evidence that he’s been watering your plants.” Betty raises the phone over her head so Veronica could see. True to his word, Andrews sent a picture of him with several water jugs, albeit he’s covered in dirt far too much for someone who was _just_ watering plants. And there’s someone barely skimming the edge of the picture.

“So he has.” And another notification pops up, this time from Melody – and it’s odd, Veronica realises, that out of the three Pussycats (their name, not Veronica’s) she’s gotten along easiest with Melody yet has the shortest text conversations with her.

She taps it with her nose, and a picture shows up of Melody staring at the camera in exasperation. Andrews is in the background, just over her shoulder, holding two potless plants and covered in dirt. He’s circled in blue with the text _“broke three pots but still brags about watering the plants smh.”_ Veronica shakes her head, clicking her tongue loudly.

“Well Andrews is dead to me,” Veronica announces coolly, tapping Betty’s wrist so she can lower the phone.

“Harsh.”

“He broke three pots of our newest batch of Zorturas.” Veronica says as if it’s the end of the world.

“Tragic,” Betty counters, voice light.

“It is.” They are expensive and a hassle to get ahold of, but when she did manage to find some she ordered a dozen shipped to the apartments. And they were. Spotless. But Andrews offered, and she was too busy planning everything to realise that Andrews has a seriously bad track record of keeping bottles and pots intact. At least she can count on him not doing experiments on her plants again. The last failed attempt really dampened his vigour for them. (And if a part of her is happy about that, well, she’s grown to like gardening.)

“Speaking of precious babies.” She pats Betty’s shoulders in a quick _tap-tap-tap_ , sliding off to sit next to her right shoulder. (And ignores the muffled snort coming from the blonde’s way. But she does shoot Betty a pointed look.) “How’s Furball living without his favourite people?”

Instead of answering right away, Betty fishes for her own phone, deposited in her slipper near the nightstand – _“it’s less likely to get lost that way. And it’s inconspicuous.”_ Veronica leans over her shoulder, trying to figure out what Betty’s looking for. She got as far as noting that it’s a conversation thread with Polly when Betty spreads a picture over the screen.

On it is a sleepy Polly, one eye open in a half-glare and pointing at the mass of orange fur covering the other portion of her face. Veronica can barely make out Furball’s ears at the edge, and his tail’s a blur beneath Polly’s chin, clearly caught mid swing.

“He’s living the life,” Betty mumbles, then opens another picture, but this time Furball’s turned around and swiping at Polly’s hair, much like he’s wont to do with Betty’s ponytail.

“Unbelievable. Your child’s betrayed us. Replaced us,” Veronica wails dramatically, the back of her free hand pressed to her forehead, head tilted slightly back. Still the pictures bring a smile to Veronica’s face.

“My child? So he’s my child when he’s being a little shit and latching onto other people; but he’s your precious little baby when he’s a purring puffball?” Betty gives Veronica a disbelieving look, tapping her phone against the bed.

Veronica tosses her hair back, leaning fully on one hand. “Naturally, Betts.”

Really she should’ve expected the pounce – with the way Betty’s warmed up to more touching (ignoring completely how she might’ve been starving for it), and stopped hesitating in initiating, it’s something Veronica’s come to expect from her. But it catches her by surprise, how quick Betty is, catches her by surprise because she’s become so _Betty_ that the other aspects of her – the bodyguard, the contract killer – they fall back, fade in the shine of this woman.

“Are you ticklish, Veronica?” And the smile she gives is something else – its own fucking category that it takes another set of poking to draw Veronica back to the present – where she’s pinned beneath and trying fruitlessly to snatch Betty’s prodding hands away from her sides – not because she’s ticklish nope, nu-uh –

The laughter that escapes her as clever fingers dance along her sides means nothing.

(The laughter joining hers, though, means _everything._ )

\-----

It’s not that she’s counting on purpose.

She’s just counting on purpose.

A quick glance to the top right brings up her clock on her sunglasses. One blink and it’s gone. 20 minutes. That’s how long Betty’s been gone, to get their drinks presumably. Never mind that Veronica pointed out that they could’ve used the floating server bots working for the bar and scouting the beach for orders.

Then again Betty’s been restless ever since they arrived at the beach today. Little things like excessively flickering her pen while solving a crossword puzzle – an old book, covers fades and thumbed through so many times the edges have creases on their creases. Like constantly looking at the bar, when she thinks Veronica’s too preoccupied with her own reading. Like how whenever Veronica looks, Betty’s fiddling with something in her hands. So yeah, maybe Betty used the excuse of getting them drinks to get the restlessness out of her system.

There’s really nothing to worry about, it’s not like Betty couldn’t handle if anything bad turns up. But Veronica’s mind keeps going back to the car chase with Mantle – which seems so far away and very much a one-time thing. And then there’s the missing fish knife from yesterday.

Another glance at the clock and it reads 11:48am. 24 minutes.

All of this could’ve been avoided if they chose that parasol closer to the bar, but nope there were too many loud families there – and really, those would only make Betty’s restlessness worse.

Setting a new bookmark, Veronica’s contemplating looking for her girlfriend when Betty materialises out of thin air itself.

“Your drinks, madam.” Betty extends two glasses of colourful drinks, both held precariously in one hand.

“Too kind, Jeeves.” Veronica smiles as she takes the drinks. All the while her eyes stray to the other hand, held firmly behind Betty’s back. She raises her brow, taking a sip. “What’re you hiding, Betts?”

Although her tone’s light, although she’s got a smile on her face, Veronica can’t help but feel a sliver of uneasiness creep up along her spine. She lowers her sunglasses just so she could have something to do faced with Betty’s impassive face, with unreadable eyes.

But that’s quickly replaced by a guilty smile and a mild shrug.

“You caught me.” With a flourish Veronica rarely sees her do, Betty brandishes two cups of ice cream, bending forward as if she really were a butler serving Veronica. “Figured the madam would like some ice cream with her drink.”

And the smile she gives Veronica is enough to scramble her thoughts for a moment. When she recovers, Veronica gives Betty a sly look, inclining her head in approval.

“Well since you worked so hard, it’d be a crime to say no.” But Veronica doesn’t take the ice cream, not right away at least. First she pulls Betty closer by the wrist, planting a kiss on her cheek, keeping her lips there until the skin beneath her lips warms. As she pulls back, she snatches one of the cups.

She’s ready to put the pang of unease behind her, when her eyes instinctively move to Betty as her girlfriend lounges on the sunbed. Her brows twitch upon the sight of red knuckles – specifically on the hand she kept hidden.

Veronica doesn’t comment on it, though. Just takes a large chunk of ice cream and pretends that’s all she’s tasting.

\-------

Their evening has been as close to perfect as Veronica could hope for.

So naturally something causes a hiccup.

This is how it started:

After dinner, consisting of noodles and meatballs from a food stand near the botanical gardens closer to the river (not Veronica’s first choice but Betty hummed in delight and nudged her toward it), Veronica takes Betty to Balvience’s most famous (and only) aquarium, just on the residential side of the Mel Balvien Bridge.

Both Polly and Betty have mentioned loving aquariums as they grew up – though mentioned is too strong of a word. Mostly Veronica patched it up from titbits thrown into conversations as an afterthought, one she never truly managed to pursue. In any case, Veronica has been contemplating a fish tank for the lounge – she actually got much further than that, if Bianca ever divulges her browsing history. But since they’re in Balvience, she can give Betty something better.

She does cut it close to closing time, leaving them something over two hours to explore the massive circular rooms filled – some filled with tanks, others filled with 3D presentations. The halls hold animated murals, which Betty watches fascinated, hands twitching at her sides, the urge, want to reach out and trace the murals barely held back. Veronica spares her the trouble, raising their joint hands to follow along a rockback whale as it swims and swirls around them.

The shine in Betty’s eyes makes Veronica’s heart do leaps around her chest, makes her giddy just watching her, makes her melt at just how raw the wonder on her face is.

Betty may be watching the murals, the presentation, the tanks, but Veronica? She’s got her eyes on Betty, and the realisation that she might just have eyes for Betty – well, it’s causing and odd mix of emotions in her.

This is how things turn around:

They’re laughing as they leave the aquarium, mostly due to the octopus scarf Betty bought for Veronica – a horrendous mix of purple, pink and orange-y brown dots all around that it goes horribly with Veronica’s blouse and skirt. She’s fairly sure it goes horribly with everything she has. (She secretly loves it.)

Veronica spends a good 20 minutes wrestling with the ends of the scarf, ripped to resemble octopus arms, because they keep catching on to her necklace. Honestly she’s thinking of just taking it off, maybe wrapping it around her head. She’s just about to try when she notices Betty takes them down another a smaller alley, mostly consumed by the family shop of knickknacks.

What catches Veronica’s attention is that’s the third abrupt change of pace Betty’s done since they left the aquariums. She could chalk it up to Betty’s curiosity, maybe a thirst to explore the residential side of the city. But her free arms held very close to her side, and the other has barely left Veronica’s back. Plus she’s been quiet, like not comfortably quiet, but like the contemplating quiet, the plotting quiet.

And yeah, okay maybe she’s reading too much into things, but the knife and the bloody knuckles are still fresh in her mind. They’re certainly not building a relationship on secrets – despite Betty’s prior work and their current work. They haven’t kept secrets – purposefully – before their relationship, and Veronica will be damned if they start now.

It’s on the fourth sharp turn – this time down to a pedestrian zone marking a larger square which Veronica vaguely remembers seeing the first day – that Veronica decides to breach the subject.

“All right, whatever’s going on, I think it’s high time we talked about it.” Veronica leaves the scarf to hang loosely around her shoulders, so she can take Betty’s hand that’s been on her back. “Because you not telling me is helping less than you telling me not to panic.”

Betty gives her a side glance. After a moment she nods, more to herself than anything else. “Okay. Don’t panic.”

Veronica gives her an incredulous look, which earns her an uneven smile.

“Teasing, Ronnie.” Betty squeezes her hand. Veronica sighs, relieved.

_False alarm._

Then she’s pulling Veronica closer so they can talk in whispers. “Since you want to know, I’m pretty sure someone’s targeting me.”

_Never mind, red alarms, blue alarms – all of the alarms!_

“What? Why?” Veronica asks before she can actually process the words. She’s used to people wanting her dead – it’s become so natural, really. (And let’s ignore how that’s not supposed to be natural, because really, with their jobs, it’s natural.)

“Former contract killer,” Betty states matter-of-fact.

_Duh, Veronica._

“Are hits like that still a thing? They used to kill someone, so we’re going to kill ‘em first. That’s thinning out the eligible workforce way too fast. Like that can’t be the only criteria here, Betts.” Veronica inclines her head, and takes them through a much more crowded street, which should connect to another shopping street. Through there they should be able to loop back to the aquarium.

“Sometimes they’re very much a thing. Especially with careless contractors,” Betty grumbles, almost like a growl, voice dripping with a flavour of bitterness Veronica’s yet to hear. It speaks volumes of how much Betty’s had to deal with similar situations. “Whoever they are they’re higher tier professionals. In the sense that they keep their mouths shut.”

Veronica squeezes her hand, dragging her thumb over Betty’s healing knuckles. “How long has this been going on?”

“This is the third day.” Betty doesn’t even blink at the answer.

_Third_ day? Veronica blinks quickly, brows rising with each blink. “What?” she whispers incredulously. “You mean yesterday wasn’t the start?”

“Ah so you did notice the knife.” Betty gives her an appreciative glance, and if they weren’t talking about someone targeting her girl, Veronica would bask in that glance.

Instead – “Betty,” Veronica warns, insistently tugging on their linked arms.

Betty stops them beside a fur coat shop (of all things) so they’d avoid the mess of northern tourists. She’s focused on the coats, or pretending to be anyway, while Veronica’s staring at Betty, expectantly – patiently. Patiently, she reminds herself. It won’t help to corner Betty just because she worries – if anything it’ll make Betty close up faster.

_(“I’m still figuring this out – figuring out where I fit into all of this.”)_

“I’m counting,” Betty starts abruptly, eyes on the coats, “since I noticed someone watching us. Nothing happened till lunch yesterday. Today basically confirmed that they’re after me.”

_The bloody knuckle –_ “The bar?”

Betty hums in agreement, brows twitching upward lightly.

Veronica can imagine how it unfolds – Betty going in to order their drinks, stopping just at the last second to see familiar faces; then looking over for possible weapons as they approach – were they armed? Oh God, they could’ve been, after the missing knife – _that probably ended up in someone –_ and Betty didn’t have anything other than glass, maybe some spoons –

How the hell did she miss that?

_The beach bar has another one inside the building._

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid st –_

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Veronica asks, unaware of what she’s doing until her forehead touches the soft material of Betty’s shirt.

She feels Betty breathe into her hair. “Because this is our vacation,” she says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if that’s that and no one can argue with it. “And you’re supposed to relax.”

She doesn’t know – can’t decide, actually – what’s calling to her tears more, what’s playing with her heart into a painful rhythm, what’s urging her to scoop this woman into her arms and protect her from the world, even if just for a moment. The underlining wonder in Betty’s voice whenever she says _our vacation_ , or that even when faced with a very real hit on herself, she’d still worry about Veronica stressing herself?

_Both?_

Veronica chuckles. It feels heavy and clumsy in her mouth. “And you’re supposed to worry about getting shot at? Attacked with a pen? Zapped by fake eels?” She looks up, eyes searching Betty’s for an answer. And she knows what it’ll be – _hates_ that she does and that it’ll be a rueful quirk of her lips. Wishes to wipe it away from everything that is Betty and never have it return. (And she’ll be thrice-damned if she’s not going to give it the Lodge try.)

“No, fuck that,” she grits out, poking Betty’s chest with a free hand. “That’s not how this goes – that’s not how this _will_ go, Betty Cooper. I’m not gonna stand here and let that play out. We’re changing the script.”

And with a short look to the now emptier street, Veronica tugs on their linked arms, moving along their trek. She’s dragging Betty for the first ten or so steps, then the blonde tugs her back so they’re walking together again.

“Veronica, don’t get yourself involved. If they’re after me, at least they won’t touch you.” And Veronica’s heart goes to her throat at the depth of feeling Betty’s letting into her voice, low enough to be just for her ears, low like a secret – carefully hidden and cherished.

_(“I’m a mess right alongside you.”)_

_And isn’t that a declaration of something._

Veronica has to swallow. Despite that, her voice comes out rougher than she wants, but she keeps her eyes on Betty. She doesn’t care if she hits a street lamp because of this, she’s keeping her eyes on Betty.

“As sweet as the sentiment is, I’d rather they leave my girlfriend alone to enjoy her vacation, too. I hear it’s more fun that way.” She smiles when Betty’s eyes warm up, gradually, something one would miss if they weren’t intimately aware of those eyes.

They walk in silence, meandering through the streets until the roof of the aquarium building creeps over among the rooftops.

“Do you think they know where we’re staying?” Veronica wonders. She’s looped her arm around Betty’s waist two blocks ago, and she’s feeling very comfortable with Betty’s arm loose on her shoulders.

Betty hums, thoughtful. Her fingers are tapping a familiar rhythm against Veronica’s shoulder, the only hint that she’s still restless. “No, I haven’t seen them around that block.”

“All right. That’s something.” Veronica tightens her fingers around Betty’s belt hoops. “When we get back you’re telling me everything you’ve got on them.”

The look Betty sends tells her that she knows not to argue with this one.

\-------

Here’s a little secret:

She’s still awake, watching the ridiculous local comedy show she’s found on their TV, when Betty’s head finally bobbed into hers, nose poking her eye in the process. Her eyes are still watching the dramatic chaos play out, yet she’s seeing none of it, barely registering the colours. She’s still awake because her mind keeps going over and over everything Betty’s told her – about the hit, the people committing to it, the possible suspects, all of it. And she’s been thinking about that so much the thoughts just jumble into each other, overlap and mesh making one giant mess that not even artists would consider art.

Frankly she wants to go to sleep.

She just… can’t.

With a sigh, Veronica looks over to Betty, notes the tan now that the redness of the burns finally subsided; notes how it’s striking against her blonde hair, notes little scars along her cheeks, otherwise obscure by her light complexion. Carefully Veronica repositions herself so she’s cuddled closer into Betty’s side – so she can rest her head on her chest more easily, so she can press her ear over her heart and count.

_Badum – badum – badum – badum –_

_One – two – one – two_

Betty’s hand twitches against Veronica’s back, fingers sliding along the space between her top and her shorts, right up to her side where they anchor themselves with a light squeeze. Veronica’s fingers in turn curl into the sheets tighter, dragging them along until she’s made a little hill of sheets against Betty’s side (a protective barrier so Veronica doesn’t dig her fingers into Betty’s side and never let go.)

(Even so she doesn’t think she can – let go, that is.)

_(“I just wanted to hear you voice.”)_

Sleep finds her, finally, drooling into Betty’s collar, lulled by Betty’s heartbeat and with her thoughts _(don’t go, don’t go, don’t go)_ silent.

\-------

“I want it to be known that this is a bad idea,” Betty says from the passenger seat, fixing her shades back up.

“It is known, and noted.” Veronica switches gears quickly so the oncoming vehicle, that’s clearly going too fast into overtaking that truck, doesn’t slam into her. “And ignored going forward. Like the last hundred times.”

“Barely six,” Betty points out. She taps the GPS display so she can better read the names. “Just a few more turns it seems.”

“Tomato, to- _mah_ -toe, Betts.”

Veronica ignores the look Betty’s giving her. Road safety and all that; totally not because of the deadpan seriousness Veronica’s expecting in that look. “They could be at the winery. And we’d be out in the open –”

“There’s a forest next to his estate,” Veronica cuts in, waving her arm as the aforementioned estate comes into view. (She’s been over this in her head countless times since waking up and, truly if they are going to choose today of all days to make some grand move on them, then at least she’ll make them work for it.) “And no one’s following us. I think we’ll be fine.”

After a moment Veronica inclines her head thoughtfully. “Throw in wine in fancy glasses from barrels that are probably _ancient_ and we will most definitely be fine.”

“On that note I hope we meet Valencio Junior.” Betty rubs her temple, leaning closer to Veronica. “I’d actually go for some wine.”

“Now we’re talking,” Veronica cheers, smile filled with childish glee.

_Come on universe. One time._

\----

They do meet Valencio Junior at the estate – and it’s enormous; Veronica feels she’s not stressing that enough for if you’re a Lodge, you’ve seen your fair share of enormous villas, estates, you name it, but this one’s enormous in a whole untapped nature way.

What was she saying? Oh right – Valencio Junior’s face lights up like a faulty neon sign when they mention Mantle – y’know with the flickering at the beginning, just long enough for him to figure out whether they are bullshitting or no, but afterwards he’s smiling so wide Veronica’s cheeks hurt. Especially once Betty introduces herself – _“You’re the one Reginald wouldn’t shut up about – the escape expert.” “That’s one way to put it, sure”_ – for a moment Veronica thought the man’s gonna hug Betty which, given how stiff Betty is, is a very, very inadvisable idea.

And Veronica’s kinda surprised at how energetic he is while giving them a tour of the place – a shortened version because his sister’s getting married soon and there are preparations to be made and, yeah now that he’s mentioned it there are a lot of people running around. (Not that Betty hasn’t noticed that on the way over, with how quickly she looped Veronica’s arm through hers.)

Did she mention he gushes about his younger sister and her fiancé? He does – Mantle level gushing. (It’s no wonder they hit it off so well on that prolonged yacht trip.) (And all right, Veronica does find his gushing charming, mainly how he’s so quick to show them pictures and share tales; almost like they’re family.)

Despite the exuberance he puts into explaining the process of making their trademark wines, Veronica’s slightly relieved when Valencio motions for them to stay put and he’ll be back with their latest batch. Just as Veronica’s relaxed her shoulders, Betty’s hand slips from hers with alarming speed.

Veronica’s looking around before the words reach her ears – a quiet hiss of _“I killed him”_ –

“Veronica, dear!” And a booming voice so familiar it makes Veronica pause for a moment. Pause and notice the group of well-dressed people circling them, guns pointed and held in the same manner she’s seen Betty default to, especially when tense. Pause and stare at the approaching man – red hair and green eyes and irritatingly asymmetrically clipped beard that brings painful memories just by looking at it. And he’s still carrying that horrid technicolor cane that most definitely isn’t an heirloom.

“Ludwig!” Veronica exclaims, fake smile in place and arms stretched out when Ludwig Helgbekker’s close enough for a polite embrace, topped off with air kisses. And God isn’t that nostalgic – that feeling, that routine, that performance? Like putting on her favourite pair of shoes.

Favourite pair that are shaped like a person and so meticulously thought out and designed that she slots in like a glove and – boom, Veronica Lodge – _the_ Veronica Lodge is back with a flourish, with a faux smile and a considering tilt of the head.

“It’s been ages! How goes it?” He gives her a polite – as much as Ludwig can at any given time – once over, brows scrunching up just below his bangs. “Papa says you’ve stepped back from the shark world of the courts.”

“I had to give them some breathing room, the poor saps couldn’t even scrape enough evidence for a show in court.” Veronica quirks her brow, eyes barely moving to the people on Ludwig’s right. (She’s still trying to wrap her mind around it – _Ludwig_ and _I killed him_ still swimming in the murky waters.) “Gardening, though dear, keeps you surprisingly busy.”

“A Lodge _gardening_.” He taps the silver head of his cane against his chest, shaking his head in dramatics. “Be still my beating heart.”

“Oh, you’ve gotten it out of the freezer?” Veronica smirks and crosses her arms, so he wouldn’t notice her fingers fidgeting because – Betty’s been quiet. She’s still probably standing there with her hands in the air, disarming but antsy.

Ludwig’s melodic laughter catches her attention. “Still sharp. Making me eat my words faster than mama.” He nods and for once Veronica sees a sincere smile on his face, uneven but warm, relieved. “It’s good to see you again, darling.”

“I wish I could say the same, dear, but your help.” Veronica tilts her head to the side, slowly dragging her eyes over the group. “They’re ruining the moment. And I know you travel with a posse, but this is a little much even for you. ”

Ludwig for his part casts a tense look at his help, his free hand playing with his scarf – a nervous habit, Veronica recalls. That and the slight tapping of his cane against the grass.

“Cousin Mina needed help for the wedding.” He looks back to Veronica, but she doesn’t miss how his eyes stray over her shoulder – to Betty. “And you choice of company is somewhat notorious.”

Veronica can’t stop herself from looking back, eyes finding Betty’s immediately – guarded, stubborn and hard. And the quirk of her brow looks awfully reminiscent of her _I told you so_ expression. Then her eyes slide over to Ludwig and Veronica didn’t think they could get colder.

_“I killed him.”_

She didn’t though. Betty isn’t the type to go for a kill and leave it up to chance. It’s why she was so hard to find – no one had anything on her. And if Ludwig knows of her, worse yet knows what she looks like, then Betty fucked up.

_Or she was set up._

“She tried to kill me,” Ludwig says suddenly, as light as if they were discussing wine. Veronica gives his a side-eye, quirking a brow questioning. Ludwig looks at her, for several long moments then chuckles. “You know she’s a killer.”

“Professional,” Betty adds.

“Well you professionally fucked up, dear,” Ludwig snips back, brows raised in challenge. Betty’s brows drop dangerously, fingers twitching in the air.

“Ludwig, darling, please,” Veronica interjects, less both of them do something stupid that ends up with a lot of people killed and all of them thrown off the Marivius estate. (And doesn’t this feel familiar, except it was a different Helgbekker and she wasn’t protecting him from her girlfriend who’s a trained professional killer.)

She places a grounding hand on Ludwig’s arm. When he looks over, she tilts her head, offering sad little smile. “Revenge doesn’t look good on you. Takes out the colour from your eyes.”

Ludwig chuckles, his sunglasses falling to his nose with the motion. “Ah Veronica, you always say the sweetest things.” Ludwig fixes his sunglasses, tangling them in red locks. Veronica couldn’t help but feel a but coming along, what with how he looks back toward Betty.

“But this woman killed my body double. We can’t let that stand.”

Veronica frowns. Body double, since when does Ludwig Helgbekker need a body double? His father’s still alive and even if he wasn’t doesn’t his uncle control the Helgbekker Corporation and have like four heirs at the ready?

Well someone wanted him dead. And they hired Betty. Then framed her.

_Why why why why –_

It doesn’t matter. Betty’s the only thing that matters right now.

_Focus, Veronica._

“But she’s been hired to do it!” Veronica adds quickly. It comes out too loud in her rush, and Ludwig gives her a curious look over it. Clearing her throat, Veronica waves her hand in Betty’s general direction, a nonchalant smile hiding the growing tension. “Contract killers, you know how they are.”

_Loyal, stubborn, deadly, charming, meticulous, adorkable –_

_Focus, Veronica._

“Why go after her,” Veronica lowers her voice, smile twisting into one of her proud smirks, “when you should be going after her employer at the time?”

Ludwig tilts his head, tapping his chin in a thoughtful manner, eyes considering. Thankfully he hasn’t grown unreasonable like his father. Veronica doesn’t miss the tense meetings with him regarding the Helgbekker case; doesn’t miss how she had to drag every answer from him like it his brother’s career wasn’t hanging on the line; doesn’t miss how cold he was, even when speaking of family, even when speaking _to_ family.

(She called her mother after each one, just to sate the urge to thank her for being such a wonderful mother.)

“Would if I knew who that is,” he says simply, and the look he gives her is surprisingly clear and open – enough for her to read exhaustion clear as day. He’s been hunting this – or it’s been hunting him for a long while now. ( _Brown eyes stare back at her and she hardly recognises them, the darkness, the deadness surrounding them – almost like she’s a new person; almost like she’s lost herself._ )

“Was, actually,” Betty chimes in, drawing both of their attention. She’s looking at Veronica, eyes hard to read but not as cold, her fingers not as twitchy. As if an afterthought she looks back to Ludwig. “I took care of her when I realised she set me up.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“So mistrustful. Shame, really.” Veronica shakes her head. She moves to her left, expecting Ludwig to try and poke her with his cane. At least he still knows when she’s teasing him.

Betty clears her throat, sharply. She’s giving the people surrounding them a considering look. “If I tell you, will you leave me and Veronica alone? No more hits, no more goons.”

Ludwig frown, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. “Veronica was never the target. I’d never –”

“But she is stubborn,” Betty interrupts. She looks back to Veronica, eyes softening greatly, and fighting off a smile. Surrounded by professional, with guns pointed at her and ready to fight her way out of it, and still have to fight the urge to smile at her girlfriend like she’s the most precious thing you’ve seen – well, it’s enough to make Veronica melt, enough to get her to think of that _something._

To think that maybe – possibly – definitely – she’s ready to consider that something for this woman.

“You have my word as a Helgbekker,” Ludwig says resolutely, and when Veronica looks at him he’s got an impish smile directed at her, eyes sparkling with the shine that’s so Ludwig – the Ludwig that would drag her out for tequila shots whenever he’s in town, the Ludwig that would challenge Veronica to a fucking seduction contest whenever he saw a person that’s worthy of it.

Veronica barely supresses the urge to shove him just to wipe the smug off his face. Instead she rolls her eyes and huffs, finally noticing Betty’s questioning gaze.

“They’ve never broken a promise to me or my mom,” Veronica says plainly, giving a small nod.

Betty drops her hands when there aren’t guns being pointed at her face. “Let’s hope you don’t start then.”

“Veronica, I don’t think your girl likes me very much.” Ludwig almost sounds like he’s sulking.

“Well you did hold her a gunpoint. Several gunpoints.” It’s instinctual the way she moves to Betty, lays a hand on each arm and gently drags them down until she tangles their fingers, watches as Betty slowly calms down, as her eyes stop dancing this way and that and stay focused on Veronica. Gives her a small smile and gets an uneven one in return.

“That won’t do at all. We must amend that with wine!” Ludwig declares and Betty visibly winces at the volume of his voice.

“Friend of yours all right,” Betty grumbles so petulantly, it snatches a laugh out of Veronica.

\-----

“Oh will you stop laughing?!”

The whine only makes Betty laugh harder. With six glasses of high-quality wine behind Betty, and a surprising zero behind herself, Veronica thinks she’s allowed to pout at her girlfriend’s antics; maybe even add an indignant glare that Betty’s ignoring in favour of swinging their linked hands.

“But you singing that song so off key is hilarious, Ronnie,” Betty says between fits of laughter, barely controlling herself enough to make the words comprehensible. A big part of Veronica says it’s adorable – how carefree and relaxed Betty’s become over the course of their chat with Ludwig and Valencio; while another part of her is hissing _commit to the act, Lodge._

“Lies. All slander and lies! I sing everything on-key, there isn’t an off key bone in my body.”

“Ronnie, there was a _video_.”

“Fabrications! Photoshoped! Audio replacer!”

She could go on really, but kissing Betty’s is far, far more important than that. Like they could be stealing their rented car, blasting _Veronica Lodge knows jack shit about singing and sucks at karaoke_ complete with video evidence and Veronica. Wouldn’t. Care.

The only thing she cares about is kissing her lovely, beautiful girlfriend. Her wonderful girlfriend who apparently can’t stop laughing long enough to kiss properly. Who, despite hearing Veronica scoff, pulls her closer, buries her nose in raven locks and continues to snicker.

“Sorry,” she murmurs into Veronica’s hair, chest still shaking beneath Veronica’s fingers. Veronica just sighs, straightening out Betty’s blouse where her fingers brunched it up earlier.

“You’re the absolute worst, Elizabeth Elizabeth Cooper.” And no she’s not sounding petulant. Veronica Lodge is a great many things but petulant isn’t one of them okay? (Just don’t tell Keller.)

Betty snorts, fingers playing with the ends of Veronica’s hair. “Elizabeth Elizabeth?”

“I’m running out of ideas, okay?” Veronica grumbles.

“Okay. Wanna hear a secret?” Betty asks as they pull away from each other, reluctantly, but they do need to get to their car before the sun fully sets. Veronica’s not driving through the woods at night. She’s done it once and she’s not a fan.

“Well you have been laughing at my expense for the past hour. It’s only fair,” Veronica hums. Her fingers are playing with the end of Betty’s blouse, enjoying how soft the material is. “As long as it’s not how you killed someone.”

“Awww, boo. There goes my master plan.”

Veronica nudges her with a shoulder, not strong enough to make Betty’s steps falter. “Any other day I’d be down to hear that. But today –” she shrugs, words failing. Honestly she doubts she needs to say anything on why today isn’t a good day for those stories. “I am open for any other secrets you’re willing to divulge.”

Betty hums. “Josie’s in our car.”

“Of course – wait, what?”

Betty untangles herself from Veronica, going over and opening the back door of their car, revealing Josie, dressed in what looks like a sky-diving outfit and munching on their reserve of snacks (which Veronica remembered to pack that morning, and which consisted of every bag of chips and biscuits they bought last night.)

Honestly, Veronica shouldn’t be surprised. She did ask the universe for one good time. Of course it’d pay up immediately.

“Hey boss. Hey Betty.” Josie waves, hand full of orange chips.

“Hey Josie.” Veronica watches as Betty packs the wine bottles – a present from Ludwig since he did somewhat derail their vacation – next to Josie, slowly making her way to the driver’s side. “No one’s chasing you right? I don’t have to make mad dashes through the woods and such?”

“Isn’t that how you normally drive, boss?” Veronica raises her brow. Josie raises her chip free hand in defence. “No offence, of course. Just asking if the tales are true.”

“More slander to my name? When will it end???” Veronica ignores the light snorts from both women, choosing instead to make herself comfortable in the front seat. “I drive wonderfully. Tell her, Betty.”

“She drives wonderfully, McCoy.” And Veronica sees the exaggerated winking Betty’s giving Josie. Even if she didn’t, Josie’s choked laughter would be a good warning sign.

“If you two want to gang up on me, I’m more than happy to let you walk back to Balvience. Or wherever you’re going Josie.”

“Balvience actually. And to answer your first question, nope no one’s chasing me.” Veronica sighs in relief. “I just had to jump out of a plane real quick. Landed close to the winery.”

“Everything all right?” Veronica turns around to look at Josie, really look at her. She has a few scrapes on her face and her suit but nothing alarming or bleeding.

Josie waves her off with a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired and hungry.”

“I hear that,” Betty says as she flops into the passenger seat, box of honeyed biscuits already open. She shields them from Veronica’s questioning look, even more so when Veronica raises an eyebrow. “You said you hated these.”

“I said they were too sweet,” Veronica corrects but drops the issue. She turns her sights on the radio. “If you get the snacks, I’m taking the DJ rights.”

Betty hums in approval, already munching on the biscuits. Josie straight out hollers at the song Veronica chooses. “This is my jam!”

“Hell yeah,” Veronica shouts, giving an upside down high five to Josie while using her other hand to manoeuvre out of the parking lot.

About after the third serpentine Veronica remembers that Betty’s yet to share a secret.

“We sharing secrets, yaaas.” Josie claps her hands from where she’s leaned forward enough to be between the seats and not fall back on every sharp turn.

“Oh, that,” Betty mumbles between bites. “I don’t actually have a middle name.”

_She doesn’t actually –_

“What? You mean I’ve been guessing for four months for nothing?!” Veronica gives Betty an incredulous look, for all of two seconds she’s allowing herself to take her eyes off the road. To think all of that work, all of the free time she snatched to think of names. “I gave it my best shots. I actually googled names –”

“Whoa, now that’s commitment right there,” Josie chimes in between laughs.

“For zilch? Nada? Not one thing?”

“I never told you to keep going!” Betty counters, shrugging like it’s totally not her fault (which it isn’t. Veronica can’t remember why she started the game of ‘guess Betty Cooper’s middle name’ but there were probably very valid reasons. Other than her curiosity at everything Betty Cooper.)

(Josie’s just full blown laughing in the backseat. Veronica has half a mind to give her a water bottle just so she doesn’t choke on air.)

“You could’ve stopped me at any time, though.” Veronica shakes her head. “I can’t believe you. I came out to have a good time and –”

“Not the memes again. Ronnie, have mercy.”

“No. No, no, no, no. We’re having the memes right now.” Veronica waves her finger at Betty, but she’s smiling so damn much her cheeks hurt. Damn this woman and her charm, and damn Veronica for falling for her so hard. “All of the memes. Every. Single. One I can think of. Because after all of that hassle, you are getting the meme treatment, Cooper.”

“Oh God,” Betty groans but she’s smiling behind her hand, Veronica can see the ends of it peeking between her fingers.

“I haven’t laughed this much in ages,” Josie wheezes from the backseat, fanning herself.

\-----

“I’m sorry,” Veronica says as they’re packing their things.

“What? About what?” Betty stops folding her shirts, hair still wet from her shower.

Veronica huffs, flopping down into bed. Her fingers are picking at the knitted details of the pink shirt. “I said I’d give you the best vacation you’d ever ask for. And this was just a mess.”

“Ronnie.”

“I mean okay I couldn’t plan for Mantle to literally drop in the first day. But then you were targeted for three days and you get so focused when you’re in your bodyguard mode that –”

“Ronnie,” Betty snaps. When Veronica looks up, Betty’s kneeling in front of her, smiling an indulgent smile despite having a blonde lock of hair stuck to the corner of her eye. It’s kinda distracting, to the point where Veronica’s moving it away instead of concentrating on Betty.

Betty takes her hand in both of hers, drawing her attention back. “Hey. You know it doesn’t matter, right?”

“Yes it does.” Veronica pouts, eyes searching Betty’s. “It’s your first vacation and I wanted you to have a great time. You deserve it. More than that.”

“But I did have a great time – ignoring the hit of course.” Veronica scoffs. “No, I did. You know why?”

“Nothing to compare it to?”

Betty chuckles, but in the same breath she tugs on Veronica’s hand so she’s leaning forward enough for Betty to rest their foreheads together. Her eyes bore into Veronica’s. Veronica’s getting mildly self-conscious about it, honestly. Mostly ’cause of the silence.

“Because I spent it with you,” Betty says as if there’s no other answer. _What more do I need? –_ goes unsaid, but rings loud and clear.

_Damn you Betty Cooper and your something._

\-----

“Home sweet chaos,” Betty says as they walk up the second flight of stairs. So far they haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary – no rooms filled with Andrews’ latest experiments, not walls broken down from trying to fix an electrical problem and no bodies.

“Don’t summon the chaos, Betts,” Veronica chides lightly, thumb dragging over Betty’s knuckles.

“I haven’t seen Polly at all since we landed. That means chaos.”

“That doesn’t necessarily –”

“Jones you are a dead man!” Comes the outraged cry of Cheryl Blossom before the woman storms out of the communication rooms, laptop held like a weapon and angry as if Jughead destroyed all of her documents. So preoccupied is she in her hunt for Jughead that she doesn’t even notice the two in the hallway.

Not a minute later Polly storms out, looking worse for wear. Her shoulders visibly sag when she spots them, and she drops the stack of tablets onto a nearby table.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she says before pulling Betty into a fierce hug. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she does the same for Veronica. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an annoying tech expert to save.”

They both watch as Polly nearly runs down the hall.

“You were saying, Ronnie?” Betty asks with a smug smile. Veronica decides that kissing it off is an effective solution to that problem.

“Hello darkness my old friend,” Veronica sings as they continue to her office.

“Stahp,” Betty calls after her, and Veronica can’t stop smiling.

 

**Author's Note:**

> also apparently I have a tumblr?????
> 
> come say hi @ bigchickcannibalistic.tumblr.com


End file.
